Here With Me
by Aja Killian
Summary: The archway and the veil has taken so much from Hermione... including her old love, Ron. When she gives her own blood to bring him back, however, something goes awry... and the wrong person comes back from the dead.
1. Prologue

Hermione Granger's face was plastered in a not-so-flattering fashion to the inside of her book, having drooled slightly since falling asleep inside its pages. Outside her, a maelstrom was brewing, but she was ignorant of this. Sleep, what was the one solace for so many other war veterans, had fallen over Hermione like a suffocating shroud, and her troubled face reflected the troubled thoughts brewing like the advancing storm within her ever-astute mind.

Lightning flashed and thunder rumbled, not altogether an odd occurrence in the middle of a storm, but it was the loudest clap of thunder yet, and the two ingredients of the perfect storm had lashed out in unison, meaning the storm was full upon them. Rain slashed against her roof and window almost as if it held some personal vendetta against them.

Hermione sat up stock-still, looking left to right like a frightened rabbit. The sound of thunder so close had caused her to wake up, but it was a mercy, instead of a nuisance. Something deep inside, something left of the coldly logical Hermione said that nighttime was meant for sleep, but Hermione ignored this.

In silence, she swept to her feet, and over to the window, peering up at the pitch-black sky. No stars hung out over the world this night. She shut her eyes, allowing the coolness of the windowpane to radiate onto her burning cheeks, allowing the sound of rain and thunder and flash of occasional lightning on the inside of her eyelids to draw her into the storm, farther into the night. She stayed like this several long moments, before opening her eyes with a sigh, stepping backward, and jamming the curtains shut over the window.

Tonight. Tonight was the perfect night.

She stepped over a few crumpled and besmirched pieces of parchment on her way back to her desk, remembering in some forgotten corner of her subconscious that time when she used to be prim and always neat and organized. It was no use now. She kicked irritably at a particular ball of parchment halfway to her destination across the floor. It rolled away uselessly, losing momentum and barely tapping an opposite wall.

Hermione slammed the book shut with a certain kind of snappish manner, meaning she was extremely determined at the moment. The title flashed in the bit of light coming from the tired candle on the desk: _Secrets From Beyond the Veil_. She threw the book onto a heap near an empty bookshelf she had never gotten around to filling.

She grabbed a cloak and flung it around her shoulders, swiftly tying a knot with trembling hands. It would not hold long, she knew, but she did not need long.

She stepped outside, letting the slick feeling of rain slip down under her clothes and tease at her warm skin. It was a wonderful feeling, and had it been any other night, she would have willed it take away the pain, the memories boiling inside her; but this was not any other night, and tonight, she would need that very pain and those very memories.

She did not know why she raced so far along the lane in the pouring rain, almost ankle-deep in water; she hardly was aware she was even doing such a thing. She was two blocks away from her flat before finally stopping, checking to make sure nobody was watching, and Apparating away.

Her mind was so preoccupied, it was a wonder she made it to the right place. She reeled slightly. She was unused to seeing the Ministry of Magic so deserted. She was certain, however, that there were people lurking about.

Thankfully, she thought with an inside smile, she had a remedy for all the questions that may have been asked. She dipped her hand into the interior of her robe, groping around for the right pocket, and finally pulling out the badge which, with a wave of her wand, secured itself to a spot over her heart. It read plainly 'Department of Mysteries: Level II'. Full access, if not entirely full knowledge.

Well, Hermione had always been terrible adept at attaining knowledge for herself.

She walked slowly and dutifully to the lift, waiting only a short moment before the doors slid open for her. She leaned back against the back wall, relishing the emptiness, the openness, how hollow and inhuman the woman's voice sounded as it called out at every level, and then, finally, named Hermione's destination. Hermione found it in herself to chuckle at the morbid humor, that something so full and wonderful in the daytime could ring so cold and lonely at night. Although nothing could ever touch the pools or intensity of Hermione's loneliness, she found she could relate to something created merely for magical purposes not for the first time.

The second, of course, that Hermione shut the door to the Department of Mysteries, the walls spun around and around, but they no longer fooled Hermione. Once they had done, she whipped out her wand, carefully aimed it at the leftmost door, and muttered to spell that would allow her to see through the door.

It was the wrong room, she knew right off. She moved her sight to the door on its right. This, too, was the wrong door.

The next door over, Hermione could not see through, which meant one thing—it was the ever-locked door to the room most Unspeakables would have given their lives to be able to enter. Many of Hermione's co-workers had poured their entire lives into the study of the contents of this room. Hermione alone showed little to no interest in it.

This room was fabled to be filled with love, the invisible substance which granted witches and wizards happiness, and their one true savior a set of weapons that led to the fall of his adversary. This room had killed the Dark Lord Voldemort, had granted peace to the Wizarding world as a whole.

But Hermione blamed this room for her sorrow, her loneliness. It was no coincidence, she had decided, that the men she had loved had died. To her, to love someone was to poison him, to ensure his death.

The next door over was it, and the walked through almost numbly. Her feet led her the seldom-traveled way to the amphitheater where so much of her life had fallen apart, so much of her merriment molded to silence and torment.

Almost before she was aware of it, she was in front of the arch, the fragile-looking stone with the tattered rag of a veil fluttering as if on a light breeze inside it. She could have sworn she heard whispers, but she paid them no heed.

Hermione fell back into a sitting position, folding her legs together in a way that seemed most comfortable. Was it just her imagination, or did she feel that roll of thunder, so many floors above her?

Pushing this and every other unnecessary thought out of her mind, she focused on the task at hand. She stared the arch and veil down, like an old enemy, because that was exactly what it was; it was definitely the worst enemy Hermione had ever had. It had stolen two people away from her, two of the people that had meant the most to her in her life. For that, it would never be forgiven. For that, tonight, is would pay back half the price.

Hermione found she was sweating, and made short work of wiping the beads from her forehead and cheeks. She knew her neck was a lost cause, so she left it safely in her cloak, allowing sweat to almost soak all the way through the thick fabric.

She drew her wand dramatically, and it shone for an instant like a sword in the sun.

"_Markem_." She whispered, and then put the point of her wand to the ground, drawing what she hoped was as close to a perfect circle as possible on the ground, all the way around her. It showed like plain white chalk on the musty mahogany floorboards around her.

This was the moment, she thought with bated breath. It was the moment she had toiled and studied and waited for. She had done five years' worth of waiting, and the stress built up all fell onto her shoulders like an anvil now, so hard and sudden that she would be surprised if it did not bruise in the morning. But it was too late, far too late to leave.

She knew the arch. She had studied it since she was seventeen years old. She knew what it wanted. This night, she would give it what it wanted.

Hermione was aware that the arch and veil represented mistakes. Death. Lives spirited away before their time. It had taken her entire adult life thus far as well as the channeling of all of her pain and suffering into one cause most would have brushed off as futile, but she had learned how to remedy these mistakes. Tonight would be the test.

With a flick of her wand, Hermione conjured up a diamond dagger, with a jewel-encrusted hilt. She opened her hand and caught it, allowing her wand to clatter uselessly to the floor.

The echo filled the room.

Slowly, Hermione lifted her sweating left palm from the floorboards. Teeth gritted, as though moving against some invisible force, the held out her left forearm, baring it to the ceiling.

_Yes_, she could almost hear the arch whisper. She was giving it its pay, what she knew it desired most of all.

She was giving it her blood.

With a flash of the dagger from an unknown light, a rip appeared in the once flawlessly smooth skin of Hermione's wrist and arm. How such once-pristine skin could now appear so tainted, she never knew. How much blood one person had… she could hardly imagine. The sight of her own blood, still warm, gushing from her arm made her quite queasy. Biting her tongue was all she could do to stop herself vomiting. The sight of the crimson sliding and dripping in angry tears off the point of the crystal dagger alone caused Hermione weakness and a sudden tenderness in her other wrist, her calves, and neck, as if they were frightened of the blade.

With a flick of the blade, a single drop of blood was sent flying through the arch, past the fluttering veil….

Light erupted in and around Hermione, a pain so renting that she could hardly bear it. Had she not created the circle of protection, she knew she would be long past dead by now. Steeling herself against the mind-splitting pain, she yelled defensively, against the howling wind that had come from nowhere. The conviction in her own voice surprised her as she chanted the necessary words.

"Open, taunting, and let that whom thy claimed from me, who the loss of created in me a shallow reflecting pool of all my gathered sorrows, let he who left out of focus and out of time ret…" Hermione found her voice fading, her conviction slipping. She could barely speak above a hoarse whisper now, the wind ravaging her throat. She opened her eyes, and something heartened her—there was a shadowy figure, lurking somewhere just beyond the veil. She found the strength she needed.

"Return." Sweat beaded on her forehead and all down her back, but such not-so-pleasantries were hardly noticeable. She gritted her teeth.

"To." The figure appeared even on the inside of her eyelids. It alone lent her strength for the last word, binding the spell.

"Me."

The wind died, the light flickered out, and the cosmos stopped swirling around her. Hermione's eyes opened, and, just as she felt the last of her energy drained from her, she saw a tall, wiry figure step out from the archway, pushing the veil aside like a mere annoyance.

Hermione only registered that something was very, very wrong before falling back in a dead faint.

-

-

-

There was an uncanny silence. Where had everyone gone? Moments before, this room had been filled with yelling and cursing and hexes flying left and right. Now, it was empty.

Sirius pressed a hand to his chest, grimacing slightly. Where had his cousin learned that curse? He thought that only Snivelly and the Marauders had known it. _Perhaps Snivelly taught it to her in one of their old Death Eater meetings_, Sirius thought acidly. Wherever she had learned it, it smarted like hell.

Suddenly, Sirius's heart twisted in his chest, almost constricting his air supply. _Harry_. He had to find Harry, to make sure none of the Death Eaters had gotten to him.

He took off running, but made it a grand total of three steps before tripping over something remarkably solid. His face crunched unpleasantly against the floor, and the wind was knocked out of him completely. It took him several moments and several deep, deep breaths before he was able to turn around and see what his legs were tangled up over.

It was a girl.

Sirius quickly untangled his legs and crawled over to her curiously to investigate her. She was an awful mess, covered in sweat and frizzy hair, and, from a long cut from wrist to inner elbow, blood. He made a quick decision to help the girl before searching for his godson… she might know where Harry had gone, anyway.

Sirius looked around frantically for his wand, and instead found what must have been the girl's, dropped a mere foot or so away from her. He waved it at the cut, which immediately stopped bleeding, but did not sew together as neatly as he would have liked, an unfortunate side effect of using a wand not his own. She would have a scar.

He allowed it to cross his mind what she could have been doing there, in the middle of the battle. He had certainly overlooked her, although there was something about her young-yet-aged face, a hidden quality, perhaps, that was uncannily familiar to him.

Sirius pointed her wand at her, and muttered, "_Ennervate_."

She stirred slightly, but only to lick her lips and turn her head the other way. He rolled his eyes and got to his feet. He would have to find Harry his own way.

He slowly morphed into a large, grizzly black dog, and, nose in the air for any possible scent, rushed off in search of his godson, or anyone who might be able to find him.


	2. Chapter 1

Chapter One

There was an uncanny silence. Where had everyone gone? Moments before, this room had been filled with yelling and cursing and hexes flying left and right. Now, it was empty.

Sirius pressed a hand to his chest, grimacing slightly. Where had his cousin learned that curse? He thought that only Snivelly and the Marauders had known it. _Perhaps Snivelly taught it to her in one of their old Death Eater meetings_, Sirius thought acidly. Wherever she had learned it, it smarted like hell.

Suddenly, Sirius's heart twisted in his chest, almost constricting his air supply. _Harry_. He had to find Harry, to make sure none of the Death Eaters had gotten to him.

He took off running, but made it a grand total of three steps before tripping over something remarkably solid. His face crunched unpleasantly against the floor, and the wind was knocked out of him completely. It took him several moments and several deep, deep breaths before he was able to turn around and see what his legs were tangled up over.

It was a girl.

Sirius quickly untangled his legs and crawled over to her curiously to investigate her. She was an awful mess, covered in sweat and frizzy hair, and, from a long cut from wrist to inner elbow, blood. He made a quick decision to help the girl before searching for his godson… she might know where Harry had gone, anyway.

Sirius looked around frantically for his wand, and instead found what must have been the girl's, dropped a mere foot or so away from her. He waved it at the cut, which immediately stopped bleeding, but did not sew together as neatly as he would have liked, an unfortunate side effect of using a wand not his own. She would have a scar.

He allowed it to cross his mind what she could have been doing there, in the middle of the battle. He had certainly overlooked her, although there was something about her young-yet-aged face, a hidden quality, perhaps, that was uncannily familiar to him.

Sirius pointed her wand at her, and muttered, "_Ennervate_."

She stirred slightly, but only to lick her lips and turn her head the other way. He rolled his eyes and got to his feet. He would have to find Harry his own way.

He slowly morphed into a large, grizzly black dog, and, nose in the air for any possible scent, rushed off in search of his godson, or anyone who might be able to find him.

-

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-

Hermione's head hurt like she had been hit with the Cruciatus Curse. She groaned and rolled onto her stomach, which gave an angry grumble in reply.

Was she hung over? She had heard stories about being hung over, and it was supposed to feel a lot like this. _Impossible, I didn't drink_, some logical part inside of her protested.

It took her all of thirty seconds to realize she was not at her home, and five seconds more for everything to come rushing back to her, from the reason behind the pain in her forearm to why she found herself unconscious at her work instead of nicely tucked in bed at her flat.

She sat up when realization hit her, with all the ferocity of a speeding train. She felt nausea build up inside her, and a dry retch coming along. She did nothing to stop it, and coughed on air for a few long moments.

But, if she had really done the spell…?

She forced the question to the back of her mind momentarily, mentally stepping back to view the scene.

Hermione was sure she looked like an awful mess. There was blood all over her left arm and in her hair from when she had collapsed all over her bleeding self. Her heart skipped a beat in fear when she realized the wound she had made herself was now completely healed, if messily so. Had someone been through here?

Head spinning like a top, Hermione clambered her way to her feet. She painstakingly bent to pick up her wand. It alone was on the floor. Apparently, the spell had torn up the dagger, as well as the protective markings on the floor.

Hermione felt beaten in every way, almost as if a tornado had taken her and tossed her against a solid wall time and time again. She was frazzled, covered in blood and sweat, and every muscle in her body screamed at her movement, every bone threatening to break into fine powder and blow away with the wind. She staggered drunkenly a few steps one direction, then another, falling one by one down the steps off the dais. She could almost hear the voices from beyond the veil laughing silently at her, but she did not care. She numbly staggered over to the staircase that would lead her out of the awful room, where the color had drunk her blood like a barfly drank his spirits, demanding more… she only had so much, she thought incoherently.

The world was fading fast from her vision once again, and she was afraid she would be unable to make it safely home. She knew for a fact she was in no condition to Apparate, and she would need to make it all the way to the Atrium to Floo. It was a lost cause. By the fifth step up, she was crawling, desperately grasping at the sixth and seventh step.

She heard a swift padding at the top of the stairs, a short pause, and then a clomping, like human feet making their way to her. She was too fatigued to lift her head or even her gaze.

Two strong hands lifted her by the shoulders, and her head blindly flopped onto the shoulder of the man who had picked her up. A not unkind yet stridently desperate voice that rang a sweet bell of Hermione's familiarity said urgently, "Harry… Harry Potter. Do you know him?"

Hermione was drifting away into a pleasant and silent abyss, and wondered disjointedly if she was actually expected to answer.

The man repeated the question, urgency multiplying tenfold.

"Er… yes."

She did nothing past that to stop the black from enveloping her once again, and slumped, inert, against the man's shoulder, arms draped around his neck.

-

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-

Sirius was staggeringly tired from his multi-hour search of the entirety of the Department of Mysteries. He had checked every aisle of the Hall of Prophecy. He had sniffed in vain along every corridor. No scent of Harry, any of his friends he had taken with him, any of the Order, or even any Death Eaters could be detected. There was only a slight trail here and there, of strawberries and ink and parchment, that struck some far-distant chord of Padfoot's memory, but, Sirius realized with a silent disappointment, if belonged to this girl he now found listless in his arms.

He scooped her up, carrying her almost like a baby and taking her wand from her limp hand seconds before it clattered to the ground. He pocketed it, not sure when something like it would be necessary.

"Where to now?" Sirius asked aloud. For some reason, his voice caught with disuse at his throat. Something was very wrong here, and he wanted to know what it was.

The safest bet to find out everything that had happened in reasonable time was to go to Grimmauld Place, Sirius thought with a sigh, although he really was loathe to return after such a long imprisonment there, and with an unidentified witch in tow. He sighed, however, knowing that was the place he needed to be, and realizing suddenly that, in his tired condition, and with such a helpless passenger, even Side-Along Apparition was out of the question. He would have to be careful, but take them up and out the visitor's entrance, and then through the Muggle transport system back to his place.

It took Sirius six tries to find the door out of the Department of Mysteries, and his feet dragged tiredly as he made his way to the lift. There, he set the girl down and wiped beading sweat from his brow as the woman's tireless voice called out what floor they were at.

He bent once more to lift the girl at the Atrium, and trudged to the phone booth-like thing, which he jammed himself and the girl, now holding her vertically against him, into.

Sirius slid the glass door shut.

"Goodbye, and thank you for visiting the Ministry of Magic." The woman's voice said. "We hope you have enjoyed your stay."

Sirius mumbled something slightly incoherent as the ground began to rise.

Soon, he was facing the pitch black and rainy streets of London.

"Oh great, there had to be rain." He muttered.

It felt great to be outside again, despite how awful the rain felt running along his sweaty body. He shivered, and, hunched slightly over the girl protectively, walked to the nearest bus stop bench.

Something occurred to him, so simply genius he had to give himself a pat on the back. After checking for Muggles and seeing none around, he did a quick charm on the girl that kept the rain from her eyes, and then stepped out brazenly onto the street, sticking out his right hand.

-

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-

Five minutes later, Sirius still stood there looking like a fool, desperately stepping off the curb again and again, wand hand stretched out. He stopped this idiotic display, finally coming to the silent internal agreement that the Knight Bus was, for some inexplicable reason, not doing its rounds that night.

With a sigh and a twist of his back that gave an ominous crack, Sirius picked the girl up once again. Her weight was almost familiar to him now, making it easier to lift her each time.

He walked along the road until he reached a part of the town that was not asleep; lights were on and music poured out into the streets from many bars. Sirius was drenched already, and just looking for a bus stop, when a car suddenly pulled over next to him, the driver leaning slightly out the window.

"Hey, you stranded?" The woman asked kindly.

Sirius almost laughed out loud. "You could say that. I think this girl needs help."

The woman's face flashed with panic. "Do you think she needs to go to a hospital?"

He shook his head, wet hair sticking uncomfortable to his face. "No, she just needs some decent rest."

"Want a lift?"

Sirius nodded with a sigh, and the lady got out of the car, holding an umbrella, to get the door for him. He slid the girl in, head against the far window, and then pushed her legs off the seat closest to him, taking it for himself. As the driver folded her umbrella and sat in the driver's side, Sirius switched the girl around, so that her head was on his warm shoulder instead of the cold, hard windowpane. He wrapped a protective arm around her, and he almost heard her murmur something as she laced her arms around his arm.

"What road?"

"Er… Grimmauld, do you know it?"

"Oddly enough, yes. My ex lives at number eleven."

Sirius gave an odd laugh, but was too busy rubbing his free hand over the girl's clammy ones to warm them slightly.

-

-

-

"Where on the road to you live?"

"Oh, here is fine." Sirius said suddenly. He said a hasty thank-you and goodbye to the woman, while unceremoniously tugging the girl out the backseat and into his arms once more. He waved as she drove off, leaving him with a final neighborly, "You really should get her in to see a doctor, you know".

It was a block's walk to his house, and he staggered all the way. Pulling the key achingly from his pocket, he finally fell through the doorway, and closed the portal behind him.

He sniffed the air. Something had changed.

The mustiness was there, the creepiness was there… even the heads of the House Elves were there (removing those had been next on the list, he seemed to remember deep in his conscious), he could barely make them out in the dark.

But Grimmauld Place had silence; unlike a hushed silence, as though not to wake anything up, but a deserted silence.

"They must all be at Hogwarts or something." Sirius muttered under his breath. He clambered through the dark up the stairs to his own room, lying the girl down in his bed and covering her with numerous covers, checking her forehead. She most definitely had a fever, and, from her nearly undetectable mutters and tosses, was slightly delirious. The matter directly at hand, however, was for Sirius to wait up for Dumbledore and the rest of the Order to get back, so they could tell him how everything had gone, where Harry was and what had happened to him, and where his bothersome cousin had gotten to….

Sirius flopped down on a couch in the main living room, where he could easily hear the entrance door open and shut, but something about the pattern and sound of the rain striking the house around him lulled him to sleep, and he slipped away into dream land, not even going with an ounce of fight in him.

-

-

-

Hermione tossed and turned violently in Sirius's bed, dreaming vividly of the day she had lived so many years ago, that she had worked so long to make it not so necessary to forget.

_Stolen away in her sleep, from the Burrow at Christmas. A hand over her mouth, and a Silencing Charm to be sure, as well as a full-body bind, for she was not going without a fight. Watching Ginny pulled along, bound as she was, still struggling futilely. Joined by others in the den, where they also had Ron. One Death Eater asking another if they needed to get Mr. and Mrs. Weasley. The Death Eater saying no, the three were enough._

_Being carried violently outside, and the Death Eaters Apparating with them to the Ministry of Magic, cold and deserted. Being dragged along, all the while knowing exactly where they were going. Feeling herself brush up against Ron in the lift. Unable to reach her own wand, so falling slightly in order to work Ron's into her clenched fist. Pulling it from his pocket. Their shoulders pressed together, keeping each other standing, and Ron barely able to breathe out from his clenched jaw, "Unfreeze yourself, then Ginny, but only once they get us wherever we're going." Hermione, barely being able to whisper back her agreement._

_Being dragged through the Department of Mysteries, a long and winding way to the amphitheater with the arch. Now, it whispered to her as it had not the time before. She wondered offhandedly what it was saying._

_Held in the room for hours of silence, all the while Hermione trying to get Ginny the message of what she was going to do._

_Bellatrix arriving just after Hermione had unfrozen herself and Ginny. Pretending to still be frozen. Bellatrix unfreezing Ron, wrenching him to his feet, shooting ropes at him from her wand to tie his hands behind his back. The determination in Ron's eyes as he shook her off momentarily and bent down to kiss Hermione, tears streaming down her face. The kiss deepening, but Ron being wrenched away to the jeers of the Death Eaters. Silent tears streaming down Ginny's face, and Hermione wondering why they made her cheeks wet, too._

_Bellatrix explaining the plan to them. Kill the one, to spark Potter into action, and let him come to reclaim the others. Ron fighting against being pushed through the arch. The Cruciatus Curse, tearing Hermione apart from the inside as she bit back screams that bled through, anyway. Having the spell lifted only to see it put on again. Ron finally falling to his knees, in tears, yelling that he would do it if they did not torture Ginny or Hermione. Getting shakily to his feet, and, despite Ginny's and Hermione's screams of protest, walking through the veil… and disappearing._

_Not able to feel anything after that. Screaming throughout everything that happened, leaping to her feet, both she and Ginny clutching their wands and firing curses everywhere. When all Death Eaters were Stupefied or otherwise incapacitated except for two, Hermione facing Bellatrix down. Pointing the wand at her and muttering the two words that killed the woman, a look of fright permanently etched onto her face. Collapsing just in time to hear the Order, with Harry along, appear, and Harry rushing to Ginny instead of to her. She felt… nothing. Emptiness._

_She felt that same emptiness for five long years, working to get Ron to walk back through that archway._

-

-

-

Sirius moaned and rolled to his other side, eyes fluttering as he glanced at his watch.

It was noon already, and he was starving. He wondered for a second if Molly would cook him breakfast, before remembering that he had not heard any of the Order come back the night before.

Sirius staggered to his feet, moaning slightly and trying to remember what had happened the night before, why his feet hurt so terribly. He remembered running through the Department of Mysteries, looking for Harry, howling and tearing things apart.

He rubbed his head thoroughly, before it hit him.

The girl.

He ran up the stairs and into his own room.

The girl was still asleep on his bed, although it looked like a restless sleep. She moaned and shook her head, cried and tore at the blankets. For the good of his upholstery, he pulled her wand out of his pocket and sent a small jet of water into her face.

She sat up like she had been slapped awake, breathing heavily. Her brown eyes were wide, unfocused, and her hair more frazzled from the torments of sleep than it had been even the night before. Sirius watched as her eyes trailed down the bed, up the bed post, to the canopy above the bed, and then slowly around the room, finally resting on Sirius. She was still breathing as if she had run miles.

"It's impossible." She whispered, voice gravelly, almost as if something had scratched all the way down her throat.

"_You_," Sirius said, "have got some explaining to do, girl, as well as quite a fever." He moved over and felt her forehead with the back of his hand.

She flapped her hand at him impatiently and pulled away from his close scrutiny. There really was something about that bossy air that he recognized completely.

She was muttering now, and all he could make out was the odd word, "Why… wrong person… meant… prepared… Ron?"

"Ron?" Sirius asked, and the girl looked up sharply. Sirius's interest was piqued. "You mean… Ron Weasley?"

Her eyes were wide, and she nodded.

"Where… where is he?"

The girl let her head fall into her hands and shook with sobs. Sirius hesitantly patted her on the shoulder in comfort, but really just wanted to know where Ron had gone. He was shocked into stillness as he heard her next whispered word.

"Dead."

_Dead_.

"Did…" Sirius asked after several silent seconds, "the Death Eaters kill him?"

A nod.

"Was it Bellatrix?"

Another nod.

"What for?"

She was so quiet he had to lean in to hear. "To get Harry to come."

"But… wasn't Harry already there?"

She shook her head.

Sirius was very confused. "I thought… hadn't they said they were torturing _me_ to get Harry to come?"

The girl was silent, and looked up, peering at him through hair and fingers. She looked absolutely horrified. "You mean…" she said, "you don't… _know_?"

Sirius rolled his eyes, huffing impatiently. "Listen, girl, I don't know who you think you are, but I am the convict Sirius Black, I _saved_ your _life_, and I _will_ take it if you don't tell me where Harry Potter is right now!"

-

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My first not completely R/Hr fic. I'm proud of myself for breaking away so much.


	3. Chapter 2

Sirius rolled his eyes, huffing impatiently. "Listen, girl, I don't know who you think you are, but I am the convict Sirius Black, I _saved_ your _life_, and I _will_ take it if you don't tell me where Harry Potter is right now!"

-

-

-

Could it even be possible? Had not only the spell given Hermione the wrong person, but had it also not allowed Sirius to remember he had died? Did he really think he had emerged just after the battle was over, the battle that had taken place seven years ago? He certainly looked exactly the same as when he had fallen through, she thought, but she trembled all over. Would she have to tell him everything? Would she have to be the one to recount all that had occurred since he had gone through the arch?

She wanted to go back to the room and toss Sirius back to the arch, yelling, "You gave me the wrong one!" She wanted to tear her hair out from the pain of the after-effects of the spell; she knew she would be killed if she attempted the spell again. She could not help it; she hated Sirius without mercy, and she began to pound on his chest as she cried.

He looked so _surprised_, like he really expected Hermione to be insane. Of course, he did not really know who she was. Had she really changed all that much? She knew her face was thinner than it had once been, more lined. She supposed she must have looked older, at a newly-turned twenty-three, than at fifteen. But for him to not even recognize her?

"Listen," he said, obviously trying to calm her down, "I didn't mean I'd _kill _you, little girl, I'd never want to _kill_ you… I just… can you please tell me where Harry Potter is?"

She looked up at him, no longer racked with pitiful sobs, no longer pounding his chest with her furious fists. He looked so dreadful, so haggard and lost and afraid. His hollow eyes were pleading, not demanding as the Sirius Hermione had known as a child would have done. Instead of moving her with pity, however, this caused her to consider him with a deep hatred. How dare he be vulnerable? She could never forgive him for this weakness. He had come instead of Ron; the least he could do was be strong, as Ron had been strong.

"Girl… what is your name?" He said, obviously trying for kindness.

She just shook her head, eyes jammed shut. She could not possibly speak to him, let alone tell him everything that had happened. He was supposed to be dead. He did not deserve to know.

Sirius got to his feet. "I'll bring you something to eat, then." He sounded forced, as if kindness was not coming easily for him anymore. _Good_, Hermione thought bitterly. _He can be awful, which will make me feel so much better for hating him_.

He turned around and left.

-

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-

He tried not to slam cabinets and such in the kitchen, but could hardly help himself. He threw around the pots and pans until he had some soup heating on the oven. Calming himself down by running his hand through his hair and taking a deep breath, he leaned against the stove and stirred the soup as casually as the situation allowed.

Had the Order forgotten about him? He wondered. No, of course not, before long at all they would be coming to Grimmauld Place in order to catch Sirius up and maybe take the girl to St. Mungo's. That would make more sense, anyway. If he was not a wanted criminal, he would take the girl himself, probably to the mental ward. The girl obviously had some bats in the belfry, to attack him like that without reason. Especially after he had practically saved her life.

"So much for old fashioned gratitude." He stretched his back, hearing a loud and unpleasant crackle. He was not sure whether this was from carting the girl all around London the night before, or sleeping on the couch that was far too short for his lanky frame. Taking a sip of his coffee newly-prepared, he decided it was a mixture of the two.

When the soup was done, he hesitated before pouring some into a bowl to bring up to the girl. He really did not want to be attacked again, but he could hardly let her starve.

She was leaning back against the headboard of the bed, staring blankly at the wall when he entered. Her eyes immediately snapped to Sirius in fear when he entered, but then narrowed in suspicion. It was clear that little had changed in her heart since he had left the room.

"Soup." He said, handing her the bowl, as well as a napkin. Something about the prim manner she spread her napkin onto her lap reminded him of… somebody. He could not for the life of him think who, although it felt like somebody he had seen as of late.

He sat back in the chair by the bed, surveying her in silence. He wondered if she could talk easier yet, although he really was not likely to find out anytime soon.

So it caused him to jump when she did speak, and quite clearly, at that. "Why are you just watching me?" She sounded a little annoyed, but mostly curious.

"You… remind me of someone I know, but I can't think of who."

The girl flushed in anger, and flinched so hard she almost upset her soup bowl. "Probably somebody so _unimportant_ that it really doesn't matter if you remember her or not, right?"

Now _that_ was familiar, and Sirius smiled a little. Every girl he had ever truly known had been like that. Suddenly, this was well-traveled territory, Sirius thought with a smirk.

"That's not it at all. At least, I don't think so." Sirius said.

The girl was merely silent, glaring at him from behind a curtain of brown frizzy hair.

"Perhaps we got off on the wrong foot." Sirius suggested.

The girl laughed, as if enjoying some private joke. "Oh, you could say that."

"I'm Sirius Black, and I'm not really a murderer. I was wrongly accused, and the person who really did all that killing I was blamed for was…"

"Peter Pettigrew. Yes, I'm well aware." The girl muttered, and Sirius froze. Such a thing was not exactly common knowledge.

"How… did you…?"

"I know more than that." The girl said, with little conviction in her voice whatever. "You are the lucky one to inherit the great Black fortune. You live here at number twelve, Grimmauld Place. You are reckless and have a complete contempt for rules with any rationality behind them. Your favorite color is blue, but you also like red because you used to be a Gryffindor. You drink three things—coffee, butterbeer, and firewhiskey. You are Harry Potter's godfather. You are Padfoot of the Marauders. You are an unregistered Animagus. You are pretentious and irresponsible, rash and insensitive. And you still don't even know who I am, do you?"

Sirius was nearly floored by this. How could one person know so much about him? This girl—or young woman, he should say—knew more than his family ever had, and maybe more than some of his less close friends from school had. His curiosity to know more about _her_ multiplied tenfold.

He tried a shaky smirk, but it really did not work so well. He leaned back in as casual a manner as he could. "You're right, I feel awful about it, especially with you apparently knowing so much about _me_." Sirius leaned forward ever so slightly and cocked his head in curiosity. "What is your name, and where do I know you from?"

-

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-

Hermione seemed to be causing him great confusion, which she enjoyed in a sick, twisted way. She decided to prolong the suspense.

"You know me from the Order."

There was a silence. Sirius still looked lost.

"I stayed here in Grimmauld Place with you."

Another lost look, and Hermione laughed.

"I was one of the ones that was there—not entirely conscious, but there—when you died."

-

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A/N: Hehe, that's likely to wipe it all out of a person. Thank you for the lovely reviews!


	4. Chapter 3

There was a silence. Sirius still looked lost.

"I stayed here in Grimmauld Place with you."

Another lost look, and Hermione laughed.

"I was one of the ones that was there—not entirely conscious, but there—when you died."

-

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"When I… when I _what_!" Sirius choked slightly; he was now very certain that the girl was insane, whether organically or as a result of such a high fever.

"When you fell through the arch."

Sirius really did remember falling through the arch, and then getting back up to walk through it again, but he had no idea how this tied in with her previous comment about him dying.

"The arch kills anyone that falls through it. It's there for people at the Ministry to study death, but all the people it kills are supposed to be 'accidental' deaths, and thus possible—not likely, mind you, but possible—to bring back to the world of the living."

Sirius was stunned for a moment, before realizing that she must have been kidding him. _Good joke. Really had me going_. He leaned back, now smiling.

"So… that's what you did, is it? You, er, brought me back to life? After I, um, _died_, did I?"

The girl's twisted smile seemed to reflect that she knew Sirius did not truly believe her. "Yes. You died seven years ago."

Sirius almost laughed out loud. "Ah. I see."

The girl stared at his laughing eyes for what felt like entire minutes, but finally sniffed airily and returned to her soup. "Fine, don't believe me. I almost kill myself bringing you back, but you don't have to take a word I say into that thick skull of yours."

His face reddened slightly in anger. He had never really been one for keeping his temper.

"Now see here, little girl," he said, brushing off all ideas of referring to her as 'young woman', "_you_ did not risk _your_ life to bring _me_ back last night. In fact, if anything, it was the exact opposite!"

The girl's face flushed bright crimson. "I studied _five years_ to learn the secrets of that arch, and you wandered around London with me for less than an hour! Such a great sacrifice it must have been, bringing me in, then, eh, Sirius? You've always been a rude git, haven't you?"

"If I'm a rude git, why did you work so long to bring me back?" Sirius taunted.

"I wasn't working to bring _you_ back!" Suddenly, the girl was not matching his taunts with her own; she had broken into a fresh wave of tears. She threw the bowl of soup at him, splattering him with it and smashing the bowl against the wall. The soup was still warm enough to be unpleasant, and he glowered at her before leaving the room with the slam of a door.

-

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Sirius brooded in a guest bedroom for about an hour before finally calming down. The soup stains had left, along with a few prods from the strange girl's wand. Through the ceiling, he could barely hear her still tumultuous tears.

He felt cut by her words. Pretentious. Insensitive. He had been called these before, but never by a complete stranger, especially such an attractive one. He smiled a little to himself, despite everything. Yes, she was undeniably attractive… although he did not think he could go for someone with that many mental problems tucked under her belt, and at such a young age.

Something in the corner of Sirius's vision caused him to reach for a huge book on top of the bed. This had been Ron and Harry's bed when they stayed over summer, and then again at Christmas. It took him only opening the first page to realize this was Ron's photo album, probably left from whenever his last visit here had been. Sirius smirked as he thought, poking fun at the girl, _Oh, about seven and a half years ago._

The first photo was of the entire Weasley family as Sirius knew them… all, that was, except Percy. The next photo was of Ginny alone, combing her hair and looking sore at whoever was taking the picture. Then came the wonder trio; Harry, Ron, and Hermione all waved up at Sirius from the page. The next picture was only Harry and Hermione. The next, Ron and Hermione. The next few were of Hermione alone.

And suddenly, a wheel turned and clicked into place at the back of Sirius's mind, sending off a chain reaction until he was rigid with the shock that came with realization.

The photo album slid to the floor with a loud thud.

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Hermione wondered if her tears would ever stop coming. She had wondered this many times before in her life, of course, but it was different now. She knew Sirius could hear her, and was probably waiting for her to stop crying before coming into the room. She was unsure as to whether she wanted to see him or not. If she just told him who she was, he would know the entire story he believed insane was true; but did she want him to know? Sirius knowing all about it seemed to make it real, make it a fact more than a possibility that the spell had failed her, had brought back the wrong person. Of course, Hermione had mourned when Sirius had died. She had even had quite a crush on him when he had been alive. But there was no possible way that _he_ was the one that had turned her into such a recluse, such a hermit.

It was impossible.

-

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The young woman was _Hermione_.

That meant that seven years _had_ passed.

That meant that he _had_ been dead.

And _anything_ could have happened in seven years. Harry could be dead, for all he knew. There was only one way to find out at the moment.

He tore up the stairs and flew through the door into his own bedroom, where a silent, twenty-three year old Hermione lay prostrate on the bed.

-

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"I thought you'd figure it out for yourself eventually." Hermione mumbled, as Sirius knelt on the floor beside the bed, grabbing Hermione's hands and forcing her to look at him. He looked desperate, needy, and in all other ways completely unlike the Sirius she had once known.

"H-Hermione?" He asked her.

Slowly, biting her lower lip, she nodded.

He closed his eyes and let out a shuddering breath. "You have to understand me. From my perspective, I fell down with the world one way, I got back up, and suddenly everything had changed. I… I need to know what has happened since I… left." He finished lamely.

There was a long silence. Hermione turned her head the other way and looked longingly out the window of the room. It was a small, grimy thing, as something simple as cleaning the windows Molly and the children of the Order had never gotten around to doing. Technically, this house was now Harry's, but he had not mentioned it, much less stepped foot in it, since it falling into his name. Hermione had a grand suspicion that the two of them were the first there in years.

A thousand possibilities flew around Hermione's brain, all cruel and uncaring. It was stupid, she knew, but hearing Sirius state it the way he had felt it had shaken her, and for some reason she now wanted him to know, wanted the two of them to be on the same page. She wanted someone who could understand her suffering.

Then, however, nobody really understood her suffering. They had not had the kind of relationships with the people concerned as Hermione had. When Sirius died, she had tried to appear merely sad on the outside, not ravaged from the inside out, as nobody then had known what she had felt for him. When Dumbledore died, an enormous burden was placed upon Hermione's shoulders, expected her to be the new Dumbledore, her to be the next person with all the answers. She had nearly cracked under all that stress. When Ron died, so soon after giving Hermione their first kiss together, she had stopped working inside, becoming cold enough to murder. She was unsure if she could say these out loud.

When she finally spoke, she did not meet Sirius's eyes, and it was like a newspaper that she lifted off the names of the dead. "You were among the first; nobody else died that night. Then Emmeline Vance, and, almost a year after you, er, _died_, Dumbledore was killed." Here, Sirius flinched so hard it looked as if he had been struck. He began to shake, eyes wide in disbelief. "Then Dedalus Diggle, and at the end of the next year, R—" her voice fell through, and she coughed a little to bring it back up again. "Ron was murdered, then. That was the night Voldemort was killed, as well as Bellatrix and Malfoy Sr. The rest have either been rounded up and sent to Azkaban since, or likewise killed."

"Anyone else from… from our side?"

Hermione shut her eyes tight. So many. She had not even thought of them for so long, was unsure whether she could still remember their names, even.

"Firenze. And… and Alicia Spinnet." So very, very many. "Madame Maxime." The names flashed before her closed eyes now, like from a list on plain yellowed parchment. "Charlie Weasley. Susan Bones. The Creevey boys. Ernie MacMillan." She remembered the boy who looked disappointed, if not surprised, at making second-in-class to herself, and shivered a little as if in cold. "That's… those are all I remember."

She turned her head to look at Sirius. He was taking this all in with a stunned, saddened expression. She knew that he had known very few of these people, but there were so many names listed, so very many losses.

"But we won out in the end?" Sirius asked, voice a little shaky. "Harry got Voldemort, right?"

"Oh yes." Hermione said, almost ruefully. "And then got married, just last month."

"To… to who?" Sirius inquired incredulously, suddenly losing all tentativeness in his voice.

"To Ginny Weasley." Hermione said simply, knowing that this would come as a shock to Sirius. She watched surprise flutter across his face, then a little smile.

"Knew she fancied him. Mungdungus owes me ten Galleons."

Suddenly remembering, Hermione sighed. "Yeah, well, that's not all Mungdungus owes you, and, unfortunately, you're not the only one Mungdungus owes."

Sirius raised one eyebrow.

"He was caught stealing your things from this house for resale." Hermione said gingerly, as if afraid of angering Sirius. "But he's also been thrown in Azkaban; something about some other burglary, I'm not so certain on the details. He should be out… next year, I think."

To Hermione's surprise, Sirius smiled, a grin she had not seen on his face since that Christmas, so many years ago. It made her almost want to smile herself.

"Always count on Dung to make the best of a bad situation. Crafty fellow… I taught him everything he knows, you know."

"Yeah, well, I wouldn't be proud of that if I were you." Hermione snapped, turning her head away and gazing out the window again. Sirius was beginning to annoy her, suddenly happy and moving in on her sorrow. Could he not just leave her be?

Sirius let Hermione's hand fall. "Now, now… don't be sore at me. Here, I'll leave, but if you need anything just holler."

"I'll be fine." Hermione said stiffly. "I just need back at my flat, and you need to find another place to be, too, until you can talk things over with the Honeymooner."

"What?" Sirius asked, pausing in the doorway.

"This is Harry's house now, as well you know… after all, _you're_ the one who left it to him."

There was a long silence, and Hermione tossed her hair the other way so that she could look in Sirius's direction. He was pausing thoughtfully in the doorframe, silence etched in every centimeter of his pose. His stare unnerved Hermione, and only reminded her how she hated the fact that he was alive again.

Finally, he spoke. "You need to get to your flat, eh?"

"Yeah."

"Well, I think there's some Floo powder by the fireplace." For some reason, his words were slightly slower and slurred than they had been before. Noticing this, Hermione sat up and put on a concerned face against her will.

"Sirius? You okay?"

"Oh yeah." His words were now very run-together, and he was swaying slightly on the spot. "Just… stood up too fast. I'd better go… go…."

What Sirius had better go do was lost on Hermione, because, at that instant, Sirius crumpled into a dead faint.

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A/N: There... erm, well maybe not less of a cliffhanger, but a... well... nevermind.


	5. Chapter 4

"Sirius? You okay?"

"Oh yeah." His words were now very run-together, and he was swaying slightly on the spot. "Just… stood up too fast. I'd better go… go…."

What Sirius had better go do was lost on Hermione, because, at that instant, Sirius crumpled into a dead faint.

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All was black and aching, even as Sirius opened his eyes, tentatively, letting the sparse light bleed into his vision. He felt blind, except that he could see where something was close to him, or farther away, and a few inches of grainy wood of what he could only assume to be part of the bed he was in.

It was silent, except for the far-off sound of somebody walking around and cupboards being opened and closed. He winced. He would have liked to have been blissfully unaware of what he been disclosed to him shortly before fainting, but he knew it all, the pain was there to prove it, in his body and in his heart. He _felt_ like he had been dead for seven years, all of a sudden, so hurt and staggering. He felt like a corpse.

His vision cleared enough for him to be able to tell that he was not in his house. He looked around this room he found himself in; it was far too clean to be in Grimmauld Place. The walls were impeccably white, the floor mold-free and completely devoid of any stray objects lying strewn across it, except for a set of robes and some other clothes that must have been his own, but even these were folded neatly at the side of the bed.

Sirius looked under the covers, and blushed to see that he was wearing only his boxer shorts. Had Hermione undressed him this much? He laughed as he pictured her doing it, impassive and a little annoyed, but altogether radiating every sign possible of being highly bored. He wondered briefly if the girl had ever been turned on in her life by something that was not made of ink and parchment.

He rolled out of bed, mussing the nicely tucked-in blankets, and groped on all fours for his clothes. A note came to his hand instead, and in Hermione's steady penmanship, he saw written 'These are filthy; try the ones in the drawers'.

Sirius sighed and staggered to his feet, then walked like a zombie over to the bureau and yanked open the drawers, rifling through them.

It was obvious that these clothes had once belonged to Hermione's father, for not only were they Muggle, but also very business-like. They looked like something Moony would wear, Sirius thought with a laugh. He considered just putting on his old robes, but they did have a certain malodorous air about them, so he backed away and begrudgingly tugged on the old Muggle clothes.

Glancing at himself in the mirror, he thought he looked like a prick. Sighing and running his fingers restlessly through his hair, he trudged from the room out into the hallway.

This had to be Hermione's flat, he thought. The entire house radiated a kind of cleanliness Sirius found in all unimaginable. He gaped at it as he walked down the hall, took a stab in the dark at a junction of two further halls, and found himself in the kitchen, where Hermione was sitting at a pristine white table and sipping a cup of something that was emitting soft amounts of steam.

She looked up at him, and grimaced at his expression. "What's the matter with it? Too Muggle for you?"

He almost laughed. "Nah. It's too _clean_."

At this, Hermione did laugh. "I just did a bit of straightening up before you got up. The den's still a wreck, though."

It belied everything Sirius had once held as true to imagine Hermione trashing a room, so he shook that out of his head. "Any chance of breakfast?" He asked, giving her his award winning grin. She seemed unaffected, and gave a shrug.

"Afraid I don't really eat breakfast, but there might be some stale cereal in the pantry."

Sirius followed the direction of her point and looked inside the pantry. The only cereal he saw had an expiration date of shortly after his own death, so he left it alone and turned back to Hermione, standing across the table from her.

"Did you sleep well?" She asked, not looking away from the newspaper she was reading.

Sirius gave a half-laugh. "Well as possible. This is… your flat?" He asked unnecessarily. Hermione looked at him and gave a curt nod. "Hmm… nice place. From the window it looked like we were basically in the middle of nowhere."

"Basically, yes." Hermione said coldly, turning a page of her newspaper with an indifference that made Sirius frown.

"What happened after I fainted?"

Hermione looked up finally, and gave a bit of a smile. "I found I was strong enough to drag you to the fireplace and Floo us both out of there. I took you to the guest bedroom and undressed you." Sirius was triumphant to see a small flush rise in Hermione's pale cheeks as she said this. "And the rest is history."

"Don't you have to go to work or something?" Sirius asked, finding the teapot and suddenly getting a hankering for tea. He began opening cupboards in search of a teacup.

"Today? Oh no." Hermione said, actually smiling. "I planned it so that the day after I did my, er, _stunt_ I wouldn't be at work. I didn't want to face that inquiry, in case something went wrong, or have anybody guess why I was so weak if anything happened to me. I get a week-long holiday starting today."

"A bit of overkill, don't you think?"

"It wouldn't have been, had there been nobody to take care of me." Hermione said, and suddenly there was a silence that stretched what felt like a thousand days, Sirius whirling around to look Hermione in the eyes. She avoided his gaze, but finally looked up and gave a half-genuine smile.

"Thank you for helping me."

There was a further silence, before Sirius said, "You're welcome."

Another few billion years passed in two seconds, before Sirius said, quite a bit quieter, "Thank you. For _saving_ me."

Hermione instantly smiled, but it was a thin, humorless smile. "You're welcome."

Sirius felt another age pass by, the tension filling the room, before Hermione said softly, wry smile gone, "The teacups are in the cabinet in the corner."

"Thank you." Sirius said, and walked off to fetch one. They were all dreadfully dull white porcelain, but for one, with a floral design on it. Just to be the regular Sirius, he picked the different one, which had been buried in the back. He poured himself some tea and tipped about half the sugar container in, stirring it around with a small spoon.

Hermione saw Sirius's choice of cup and sugar quantities and gave a flicker of a smile, and another one when Sirius downed the entire cup of tea in one long drag. She sipped hers, watching Sirius's delayed reaction to the temperature of the tea, and as he yelped and ran to the sink, allowing the cool tap water to flow over his scalded tongue.

He pulled away, giving Hermione a mock-glare. "Not funny." He said, but with his hurt tongue, it came out sounding a bit like he said, "Noth thunny." This just caused Hermione to laugh even harder. He laughed along with her, hoping it would encourage her; he had a feeling she had not laughed in quite some time.

-

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Hermione stopped laughing to see Sirius gazing solemnly at her from above the rim of his coffee cup. She instantly flushed red and looked away, filling the sink with soapy water and swirling her cup around in it. She heard Sirius walk over, and then saw his arm reach out from behind her, putting his own cup into the sudsy water.

"Do you know what happened earlier? Why did I collapse?" Sirius asked, but Hermione really was not listening. It occurred to her that Sirius was standing much too close, she could feel his breath in all the wrong places, but for some reason there was a _rightness_ permeating the situation, and Hermione almost lost herself to the feeling. She swallowed it all, not even allowing herself to reconsider what she had just been thinking. A ticking, every-analytical part in the back annals of her mind, however, pointed out the painfully obvious—how very scintillated she was at the feel of his body so close to hers. She slowly turned, and then their chests were pressed together. Her eyes stayed momentarily on where they touched, but Sirius was not backing away, and Hermione was incapable of doing so. She trailed her gaze up to his.

"Er…" she tried to recall his question, and it suddenly came back to her, although allowing enough of a pause to cause Hermione's face to flush deeply again under Sirius's quizzical glance, "just the effects of the arch, mixed with… s-surprise, from what I'd told you."

"I figured as much." Somehow, Sirius took a step closer, and Hermione was positively crushed by him—she somehow found this invigorating instead of harmful. The smell of him washed over her, and somewhere underneath that un-bathed air was a slight hint of cinnamon. "I mean, it isn't every day that a man finds out he's been dead for seven years."

"Indeed not." Hermione found Sirius's gaze disconcerting, and she looked away. Sirius must have noticed Hermione starting to look a little uncomfortable, because he backed away, apologizing in undertones. Hermione took advantage of this to slightly bow her head to him and rush of to the living room, breathing heavily for some reason or another.

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A/N: Again,thanks so much for the reviews. pulls out Spanish/English dictionary I don't mean to be so terribly mean all the time. Tonight won't be such an awful cliffhanger, I swear.


	6. Chapter 5

"...it isn't every day that a man finds out he's been dead for seven years."

"Indeed not." Hermione found Sirius's gaze disconcerting, and she looked away. Sirius must have noticed Hermione starting to look a little uncomfortable, because he backed away, apologizing in undertones. Hermione took advantage of this to slightly bow her head to him and rush of to the living room, breathing heavily for some reason or another.

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_Why was she so uncomfortable?_ Sirius asked. He of all men knew an uncomfortable woman when he saw one, and Hermione had been practically screaming to get Sirius to back away.

_It's not like I was putting the moves on her or anything_, Sirius said to himself to ease his mind, tearing savagely at a piece of bread he had found in the bread box. He suddenly stopped, heart and mind and all, and one thought flitted across his brain, a repeat of the one had directly before, with an added word.

_Right?_

Sirius had often had it said to him that he had no sense of when to back down… when things were too close for comfort. Sirius could hardly judge others' comfort, he though wryly, when the breasts of such a shapely young woman were pressed into his chest….

He shook that from his head immediately, and found himself sweating slightly at his palms and the back of his neck. He really needed to bathe, he decided; _a cold bath_, a terrible little voice said, but he drowned it in his sudden thought.

He could never think of Hermione like… _that_. She was so much younger than he, even after having gained seven years on him. She may have been legal, but there were ethical codes to be followed. It was probably just the fact that she was the first female he had seen since having allegedly been dead for nearly a decade. That was probably it, he decided.

And, if his mind had not been completely stilled from their arousals by these thoughts, he remembered she was Harry's best friend… the late Ron's lovebird.

He went to the living room to ask where the bathroom was, and where she kept her towels.

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Trying to stem all the sorts of ideas that fluttered inside her head when envisioning a naked and soaking Sirius one wall over, Hermione turned to a report she was supposed to be writing for work. It was about a discovery that had been made years ago about life cycles, but never categorized and easily referenced. She found it difficult to concentrate, however, for the first time since school.

The water from the tap had stopped running quite some time ago, but there was the sloshing sound of movement in the tub, and Hermione wondered briefly if he was getting out of the tub. Shutting her eyes, however, only made the images more dangerous, so she held them open and tried to concentrate on the sound of her blood flowing through the ears instead of the slight sounds of the bathing man the next room over.

After too short a time, there was a knock on Hermione's door. "Co-come in." She stammered, getting quickly to her feet.

Sirius opened the door just enough to stick his head in. "Working on homework?" He asked, grinning a little.

She nodded.

He stepped all the way through the door and Hermione slightly lost her footing. She could now see that he was not dressed, at least not in the conventional sense. A towel was all that separated her from a real eyeful, and a low-placed towel at that. Thin hair covered his chest and navel; she could see the lines that led down beyond the towel, and inexplicably wanted to trace them with her hands. His muscles were well-toned, and now, after he had bathed, the smell of cinnamon practically filled the entire room.

"Sorry if I intrude." Sirius's voice was indifferent; Hermione's face snapped up, but thankfully Sirius was looking around the room instead of at her. She would have died of embarrassment to know that he had seen her—not ogling, she insisted, but at least _looking_—at him like that.

"No… n-no problem." Hermione said quietly.

"I was just thinking," Sirius continued, "maybe some day soon we could go to Diagon Alley or something. I mean, I have some gold, and I really need new robes…."

"I don't know if we're both well enough yet." Hermione said hastily. Something tore at her heart then; she knew that, if they were well enough to go to Diagon, Sirius was well enough to go home, to let Remus know that he still lived. Hermione felt selfish and hated herself for thinking so, but she wanted Sirius all to herself, at least for a while.

Sirius gave her a smile. "I guess not, for a little while. Just… keep it in mind, okay? I don't want to have to wear your grandfather's clothes too much longer."

Hermione said nothing, merely blushing a bright red color as Sirius left the room.

-

-

-

Neither ate lunch at the same time; the day was mainly spent resting. After Hermione's hurried sandwich lunch, she lay down to take a quick nap.

_She was in Grimmauld Place, but she was young, no older than fifteen. The summer before her fifth year at Hogwarts, before Sirius's death, looking forward to her sixteenth birthday in exactly one month._

_She was walking along the halls, humming slightly to herself. Harry and Ron were playing wizard's chess upstairs, and Ginny was with them, cheering for Harry, who was always the underdog. Hermione had said she had to leave to get fresh air, but part of it was to break the monotony that nobody else seemed to notice or mind._

_Footsteps caused Hermione to whirl around; she found herself face-to-face with Sirius Black, the owner of Grimmauld Place. He smiled._

"_No need to be so jumpy. I was just wondering what you were doing out, and looking so happy." He whispered._

"_I was just…" suddenly 'going for a breather' sounded quite lame. Hermione shrugged. "Well, I'm happy that my birthday's coming up."_

"_Right. Your sixteenth, right?" Sirius had a roguish grin on that Hermione normally would have been wary of, but at the moment she did not really care._

"_Yes."_

"_Sixteenth is the one where you're supposed to be kissed, right?"_

_Hermione shrugged. "It doesn't seem that way this year."_

_Sirius just smiled, and leaned in, pressing his lips quickly to hers. She gasped at the suddenness of it all, but he pulled away with equal abruptness. He smirked at her gasp._

"_What… was… w-what was…." She began, unable to string coherent words together._

"_That," Sirius said, grin growing, "was an early birthday present from me."_

_He walked off, whistling_.

Hermione woke up, hands sweating a little. She wondered for a moment if this was a memory or a fabrication, as she had never remembered it before. The words '_don't tell_' crossed her mind.

She blushed to think that the only other person she could ask was Sirius, which she would not be doing any time soon, she thought with absolution.

It was dinnertime, she noticed, and with a sigh got ready to walk down to the kitchen once more that day, wondering quickly if she would see Sirius there.

As she placed a hand on the doorknob of her room, however, she paused, and let two fingers fall lightly on her lips, as if trying to wake up their memories. They said nothing, except causing a slight stirring in Hermione's mind, and she wondered momentarily if Sirius tasted like cinnamon.

-

-

-

"Someone has breached the security of the arch." The man said with certainty.

"This is bad news." A smaller, whimpering man muttered.

"Don't you think I know that?" The first man demanded, blond hair practically flaring with his anger. "And whoever it was must be killed… for his or her own good."

The smaller man danced from foot to foot. "Must… must be killed… it is necessary… for the plan…."

-

-

-

A/N: Speculations? On either who the two men are, what the plan is, or whether the "memory" is real or not, I mean. Sorry if you think this is cliffhangy, this really was the best I could do.


	7. Chapter 6

At dinner, Sirius and Hermione came face-to-face for the third time that day.

Sirius had been scavenging for food of the edible sort in Hermione's kitchen for about five minutes when Hermione entered.

She stopped in the doorway. He was half-buried in the pantry, and had not noticed her there yet. She thought about turning around and walking out, and was about to do so when she realized she had no rational reason to. She gulped and held her ground.

Sirius turned around, holding a piece of bread in his mouth like a dog would hold a newspaper. He smiled at her through the bread, and she snorted, with a little smile.

"'Ow you ooing, 'Ermione?" He asked, speech slightly hindered. Hermione laughed.

"I'm alright. How have you been holding up?"

He began to reply, but then, seeming to think better of it, set down the box he had been holding in one hand back onto its shelf, and replaced it with the piece of bread, freeing his mouth. "Alright. There really isn't much food."

Hermione looked over at the counter by the bread box, where a bag was still lying out. "There are two pieces in there, why don't you eat those?" Hermione asked. She was a little surprised that he had single-handedly managed to eat practically all of her bread during the course of one day.

"I don't like the heel." Sirius said, jumping up slightly to sit on top of the counter across the kitchen.

Hermione rolled her eyes. _Just like Ron_. She thought irritably, on her way over to the bread to get herself some. She paused, grimacing a little at her thought. Her heart suddenly felt very heavy, and a wave of animosity towards Sirius practically bowled her over.

She swallowed it, however, and put on a smile, for Sirius was observing her with a curious expression on his face. She continued walking to the counter, and picked up the bag. Setting herself down at the table, she began tearing passively at one piece of bread, popping the pieces into her mouth slowly.

"We should go get more food before long." Sirius said, having finished his piece and begun looking around with a thin smile on his face, and Hermione choked on the piece of bread she had been eating. Had he just said 'we'? How long was he planning on staying with her?

_Not that you'd mind if he stayed_. A voice inside Hermione hit her with the force of a speeding train, and a guilty look floated across her face.

Misinterpreting this, Sirius said, "No, it's alright, I've been eating well enough. I just think… well, besides that loaf, there really wasn't anything…."

"No, I do think we should get more food." Hermione agreed quietly.

"Good!" Sirius said, jumping off the counter and onto his feet. "Let's go."

Hermione shot him an incredulous look. "_Now_?"

Sirius just smiled back, and bobbed his head. "Yes, _now_, when did you think?"

"Well, maybe tomorrow morning or something…."

"Why? I haven't had a proper dinner, and you're too skinny just to eat two wimpy heels of bread for supper. We can still grab something and take it back. I can cook something for you, if you'd like."

Hermione just let her jaw fall open slightly.

"Oh, come on, Hermione, don't be a spoilsport." Sirius said, opening his eyes. Now that she noticed, he really did have more puppy-like qualities than was conventional in the slightest. She almost smiled.

"But… don't you think it's a little… late?" She finished lamely.

"Late? For a Marauder and a member of the Wonder Trio?" He gave a swoon-worthy, reckless grin. "Nothing's late for us, Hermione."

Hearing none of her protests, he tucked his arm into hers, and barely gave her enough time to grab her purse before dragging her out the door.

-

-

-

They were talking and walking along the path, and Hermione had just begun to walk instead of be dragged, but Sirius had not let her arm fall from his. It was quite comfortable, Hermione thought, being escorted by Sirius. She allowed her mind to wander—within limits—as the two chatted amiably about the town Hermione lived in, and the stores and restaurants there.

Suddenly, however, just when they were in sight of the small village below, Sirius stopped, raising his head as if sniffing the air. His eyes were wide.

"What is it?" Hermione asked, stopping in the middle of her sentence. "What's the matter?"

Sirius was silent for a moment, then said hesitantly, "The people… won't remember me, will they?"

Hermione blinked very, very slowly, and then realized what he meant. "No, I don't think so. It's been over a decade since you were on their news, remember? Besides, this isn't a town prone to gossip."

Sirius did not look remarkably reassured. Hermione patted his arm, smiling warmly.

"You'll be safe. I swear." Hermione said soothingly.

He gave her a weak smile, sliding his touch on her elbow to her hand, until their hands were in the holding vicinity. "Swear?"

Hermione grinned back, allowing Sirius to interlace their fingers. "Swear." She said assuredly.

-

-

-

The bell on the door tinkled merrily as Sirius and Hermione stepped through, still holding hands, and Hermione was loathe to let go, but Sirius was looking anxiously over at the meat section of the store, so she let him go off, telling him not to choose anything too expensive.

He grinned recklessly. "I'll pay you back somehow; maybe I can get into my Gringotts account—"

"_Shh_." Hermione politely cut him off with a reminding smile, as the cashier had begun to look them over curiously, and waved Sirius away, hooking a shopping basket on her newly freed arm.

Hermione took a leisurely stroll down the canned food aisle without grabbing anything, and then down the pasta aisle. She stopped silently by the spaghetti and grinned a little. She had not eaten that particular meal in a long, long time. She sighed to remember that the last time had been with Ron and Harry, and wondered if she had been avoiding eating it all this time.

_Ridiculous. You haven't—_

"Hey, Hermione."

Hermione gasped and jumped, empty basket clattering to the floor, turning around and had already plunged her hand instinctually into her wand pocket before she realized it was Sirius, standing back a little and raising both eyebrows at her in surprise.

"I'm sorry." He said slowly.

"No, no, it's my fault." She said, shaking severely. "I've been jumpy for years."

He just gave her a warm smile that would have stilled her pounding heart, except that it sped it up reasonably for some reason Hermione preferred to ignore. Sirius began looking around the aisles.

"Pasta, eh?" He asked, with another smile, this one secretive. "I'm quite well-known for my pasta, you know."

"I can only imagine." Hermione said, allowing herself a smile.

"Is that what you want for dinner?" Sirius asked, not looking at her; he walked over to the shelf and picked up a bag of spaghetti, balancing it easily on one finger.

"Er…" she said, and her voice trailed off. Is that what she wanted? She was unsure if she wanted to break the long spaghetti-less string or not; stupid though it seemed, it was almost like something sacred for her, like saving herself for Ron.

She shrugged with a halfhearted smile when Sirius shot her a questioning glance. "What else can you cook?"

Sirius just smiled. "Well… _all_ kinds of pasta." She could tell he was not going to drop the idea, and sighed a little.

What was the point in holding out? She was just being stupid.

"Pasta it is, then." Hermione said with a smile.

Sirius's face lit up considerably, and he threw a bag of the long, thin noodles into the basket.

-

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-

The blond man fell back onto his bed. He had never felt older than he had today, walking around the Ministry of Magic with all their new, fresh-from-Hogwarts employees. He sat upright and looked at his reflection in the mirror. He was not yet fifty, but he felt that and more in the ache in his sides and his head. He placed a hand at his temple.

"I will find him." He muttered to the room at large, letting a sigh escape his tired lips. "I can and will find him."

The man had been obsessed with this notion for so long, he had no idea what drove him anymore. He needed to feel closure; he always had in his life. It made him feel useless how desperately far away his goal seemed from where he was at the moment. Wormtail being in his servitude made little to no difference… the man was so very inept at everything, except being particularly nasty.

After running his hands restlessly through his hair—which looked almost brown in the dim lighting—he lay back on his bed, kicking off his shoes.

He went to sleep and dreamed of the wonderful life he used to have… all torn from him in one terrible moment. The man could not remember the life, really, only snatches from it, or the feeling he had while living it. He supposed he had taken things for granted. In his pre-deep sleep, he scratched a little at a scar on his forearm, and memories of a troublesome black-haired boy rushed back before he slipped away completely.

-

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-


	8. Chapter 7

Hermione lounged about on her couch, barefoot and draped in a blanket. The forecast was calling for snow any day now, and Hermione was not one to second-guess the weather, especially when it was so very cold outside.

"Shut your eyes," came Sirius's call from the kitchen, "and open up your mouth."

Hermione sighed and shut her eyes. She heard footsteps, and said impatiently, "You're not going to slip a spider in there, are you?"

Sirius just laughed a deep, throaty laugh. Hermione shivered, and pulled the blanket a little tighter around her. Sirius spoke again, now so close that she could feel his breath on her face.

"Of course not. Now open up."

Hermione grinned, but did open her mouth.

The taste of the spaghetti _was_ remarkable; the sauce, which Sirius had insisted on making from scratch, was just the right consistency or solid and liquid. The actually let out a moan of surprise, and heard Sirius's chuckle. She swallowed before opening her eyes.

The sight that greeted her caused her to clutch her hand at her heart, laughing. Sirius stood before her in her only apron, which was blue with floral print, holding the fork out like a mother who had just fed her baby by telling it that the airplane was going into the port.

Sirius beamed. "I thought you'd like it." He modeled a bit, putting his hand to his hip and swinging his arm around. "Great taste you've got."

"My… mum gave it… to me." Hermione said between gasping shudders of laughter. She was now clutching at her heaving sides.

Sirius sat down next to her and just stared for a few moments, Hermione still laughing uproariously, before saying, "You know, that spaghetti could come out of your nose if you keep this up."

Hermione laughed more at this, but calmed down. She looked over at him, seriously, and blinked her eyes slowly once, smile still evident on her face.

"Thanks, Sirius. I haven't laughed like that in a long time."

He grinned back. "No problem."

-

-

-

Two hours later, it was far past Hermione's bed time, but she hardly noticed at all. Sirius was keeping her well entertained by telling stories of the Marauders at Hogwarts. They had each eaten copious amounts of spaghetti, and were mildly drunk with the night, collapsing into fits of giggles every now and then.

Soon, however, the drunken feelings turned to melancholy ones, as Hermione told in detail the stories of Dumbledore's death, Sirius's own, and then a little about the circumstances of Ron's. She simultaneously felt that Sirius, having taken Ron's place in the spell, did not deserve to know, and that he alone would truly understand the death of a friend so close, and then… years of utter torment, alone and afraid. She knew her situation was much less severe than Sirius's had been; she wondered how he had kept grip on his sanity whatever.

He noted her silence with a raised eyebrow, and said quietly, "What about Wormtail? Whatever happened to him?"

Hermione slowly chewed her mouthful of spaghetti, then swallowed it down. "Disappeared. Nobody really knows. We think he may have died, but we're keeping our eyes open until then."

"How about the Malfoys?"

"Draco's still alive, but his parents…." She shook her head, smiling a humorless half-smile.

Sirius frowned a little bit.

"I can only imagine how Draco feels." Sirius said. "I never even remotely _wanted _my parents to live. Harry never had time to."

"I always did." Hermione said quietly, wiping a sweaty palm on her pants legs. She noticed again how cold the room was, and was suddenly glad of Sirius's warmth at her side. He was like a beacon in the dark, and she barely stopped herself from leaning farther into him.

"You've had a well-rounded life, haven't you?"

Hermione laughed a little at Sirius's choice of words.

"I wouldn't say that." She said darkly.

"Why not?"

"I see a well-rounded person's life as a circle." Hermione said, looking at Sirius. He looked curious, and nodded for her to continue. "Well, you know… it has to be perfectly balanced, right? The right amount of love, the right amount of hate; balance between beauty and ugliness, skill and ineptitude. So, if you're nice and balanced, you're a circle… the same all around, right?" Sirius nodded again. "Through all this, I really envision my life as… like a scalene triangle, really. It'll never be really balanced until somebody rubs at the corners 'till they make a circle. I have too much hate over-countering my love, it's clouding out everything else. I hold obsession high over passion. I hold the past over the present or the future. Do you… do you understand at all?"

Sirius was looking at her with shining eyes, very solemn and sober-looking. He nodded slowly. "I don't think I've ever understood anything more than that."

She gave him a smile, which, in turn, caused him to smile back at her. They held this glance for a few moments, both hearts pounding wildly behind their chests. They were on the same page, and it had built some sort of bond between them, something that nobody else could take from them.

_Don't tell_. The words crossed the back of Hermione's mind, fluttering like a butterfly across the pages of her memory. A strong urge to know once and for all whether Sirius tasked like cinnamon as she expected clenched her heart, and she saw his eyes drop to half-mast as he tilted his head slightly to the right, leaning in towards her a millimeter… a centimeter….

A clatter arose in the kitchen, and Hermione jumped to her feet, rushing off to find out what it was. Sirius, dejected, dropped his head to stare at his hands uselessly clutching his empty sauce-stained plate.

-

-

-

Hermione returned to the room, but the mood was gone. Smiling a little, she walked back to the couch and sat down next to Sirius, a little farther away than she had been before. Everything seemed so awkward, yet she still felt that closeness between the two of them, buried somewhere deep inside her.

Sirius looked at her, both eyebrows raised in polite question.

"Crookshanks. Going after a mouse." Hermione explained.

Sirius just nodded. He did not trust himself to speak.

"Well…" Hermione said lamely, "er… good night, I suppose, it's a little late."

"G-good night." Sirius said. Hermione shot him a look for his stutter, but he blindly pulled her into a hug.

The embrace pressed both of their madly driving hearts together, and Sirius did not miss that their pulses were at the same rate. He buried his face into her hair; she had bared her heart to him that night, and he wanted to seal it back up before anything else could hurt it. He also wanted to go back in time and maybe give Crookshanks a toy mouse to play with for the night, to stop certain things from occurring—or _not _occurring, as it were—but he knew that would be impossible without meddling with time.

_Harry's best mate_. His mind reminded warningly when Sirius noticed with interest the things Hermione's proximity was doing to his now-tingly skin, but the warning was a halfhearted one. He felt her gasp at their melding heartbeats.

He pulled away, and then swept down to press his lips firmly to her cheek, holding a second longer than necessary before retreating again. "Good night." He said, now with certainty.

As she watched him walk away to his room, one hand hesitantly floated up to the now-burning spot he had left on her cheek, the other to where her heart beat insanely beneath her breast. She had not imagined, then, what had just happened… nor what had almost happened.

_Don't tell_, the voice said again in her mind, and a dreadfully familiar tune struck Hermione's ears. It took her a few moments to realize that Sirius was humming it.

Just as he had in the dream.

-

-

-

"_Don't tell."_

_Sirius straightened up, smiling, and walked away._

_Was he joking? Hermione would have to be insane to tell anyone about this. Her first real kiss… and he was so much older than she, although not nearly as mature as she was. She fell against the wall from weakness, but Sirius walked away, humming as if nothing earth-shattering had just happened._

_She felt a string attach her heart to his, and knew that string would always be there._

_Her fingers drew across her slightly swollen lips; the fingers of her other hand touched tentatively the spot on her blouse above her heart. Their hearts, so close together, had beaten at such a mis-rhythm then, almost like tribal drums. Her pulse, so fast… his, so slow and natural. She knew he had felt her excitement seeping through her skin to his…._

Hermione sat up with a start. She could not believe she was dreaming the same thing as she had the night before; she felt with a little smile the all-too-familiar taste of cinnamon flooding her mouth, but, with a gulp, realized that was just a phantom of the dream, or memory, or whatever it was. She would have loved to see for real.

_Harry's godfather_. Her mind whispered at her, semi-desperately. She allowed a melancholy smile to drift over her features, and wondered for a moment why she even cared. She would hold out for Ron for as long as she had to. The spell had messed up and given her the wrong person—she had to wait until she was strong enough to remedy that.

End of story.

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A/N: Again, thank you for the lovely reviews!


	9. Chapter 8

_Harry's godfather_. Her mind whispered at her, semi-desperately. She allowed a melancholy smile to drift over her features, and wondered for a moment why she even cared. She would hold out for Ron for as long as she had to. The spell had messed up and given her the wrong person—she had to wait until she was strong enough to remedy that.

End of story.

-

-

-

Hermione and Sirius both exited their rooms the next morning at the same time. Hermione looked away a little and blushed; Sirius had no shirt on, and his well-toned muscles flexed evenly as he stretched out his back and yawned. He grinned a little when she looked back up at him and waved.

She waved back.

Walking side-by-side down the narrow hall, their shoulders brushed against each other. They entered the kitchen, and Sirius immediately walked to the now decently-stocked pantry. He snorted at its contents, and then wandered over to the refrigerator. His hand reached in, then came back out, now holding a carton of eggs.

"Pans?" He asked, turning to Hermione.

"Hmm?" She had been caught up watching his movements; they were loping and graceful, much like a lazy dog's. The way his muscles flexed and slid underneath his skin, and the narrowness of his waist… she remembered with an inner sigh how wonderful it had felt to hold her arm around that waist….

"Er… pans?" Sirius repeated, in a teasing tone.

Hermione turned Weasley red and looked away, pointing to the pull-out drawer under the oven. "Thank you." Sirius said, walking over to pull it open and selecting a frying pan from inside it.

He tapped the stove with Hermione's wand, handed it back to her, and it was immediately the perfect temperature. He placed the frying pan on it to let it heat a little, and then cracked three eggs on it at once. They sizzled. Hermione's face slowly turned back to its normal color as she tucked her wand back into her pocket.

Sirius turned back to smile at Hermione. She was pointedly looking the other direction. He coughed, and she looked at him. They both blushed a little, smiling.

"How many do you want?"

"Oh, just one is fine." Hermione said airily.

Sirius raised an eyebrow, and Hermione, eyes wide, said, "What?"

"How about five? You've become much skinnier than you were when I last saw you… you're almost as bad as Harry was." He looked her up and down again. "No, wait… you're far worse than Harry was."

"I'm fine with one or two."

"You'll be fine with whatever I put in front of you." Sirius said, winking flirtatiously.

Hermione rolled her eyes and drummed her fingers on the table. She looked around the room, and then suddenly sat up straight, giving Sirius a direct look.

"How can you walk around like… like _that_ when it's so cold?" She asked, with a half-smile.

He grinned. "Don't you like it?"

Hermione just snorted. Sirius sighed with a smile and leaned up against the table.

"You know what's wrong with you?" He asked, and she gave him an offended look, but then defiantly stuck out her chin.

"What?"

He leaned around the table and pecked her on the cheek.

"Nothing." He said, pulling back with that roguish grin she was just really getting to know so well.

-

-

-

Sirius sat around that night, contemplating everything that had happened that day. So many near misses… he had almost begun to believe that Hermione was avoiding his advances on purpose.

"I'm not advancing on her." Sirius told himself firmly.

He looked at his own reflection. He had not even managed to convince himself. She affected him in a way no other girl had. Even as a teenager, he had been able to flirt meaninglessly with girls, throwing away their affections with ease. A kind of monster of pride reared up inside him, however, when Hermione blushed or smiled, but most especially when she laughed. He had spent the entire day cheering her up, and had gotten considerably far. She was definitely more open with him than she had been when he had first seen her.

_Then again, a brick wall was more open with me than when I first saw Hermione_, Sirius thought, though not without a smile.

He leaned back into bed, slowly, and just began drifting off, brainstorming ways to make Hermione happy.

One hit him with the ferocity of a Hungarian Horntail in full flight… he sat up with a gasp and looked around the room, as if to check where he was. He suddenly understood something that would make Hermione's Christmas… probably secure her happiness for the rest of her life.

How to do it was another thing entirely….

Sleep, which had been so tantalizingly close moments before, was utterly forgotten now, as Sirius paced to and fro in his room, occasionally pressing his ear to the wall between his room and Hermione's to hear her deep breathing.

-

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-

At midnight, Hermione woke up and looked around her room. For some reason, she could not get comfortable. She had awoken so many times already that night, each time after reliving that made-up moment with Sirius in the hall of Grimmauld Place, so many years ago.

She needed to do something, and nothing in her room offered her any entertainment. She put on a thin dressing gown over her bedclothes and breezed out into the hall, winding it to the den.

When she entered, however, she found that she was not the only one up so late. Sirius looked up from the couch, where he had been reading a book. He smiled at her, laying it down around numerous other books on the floor.

"You keep a tight ship in here." He said sarcastically. Hermione's eyes shot quizzically to the book, but when he just shrugged, she let it drop.

"Yeah, well, I have to, with such distinguished company around here." Hermione said, and Sirius rolled his eyes.

"Ouch. That hurt."

There was a silence enough for the Hogwarts Express to pass through the conversation, before Hermione, nervously shifting weight from one foot to the other, finally broke it, blurting out, "Do you remember the summer when… well, before my fifth year, when the boys and I stayed with you at Grimmauld Place?"

"Always snooping around, you were, with those Extendables." Sirius said, scooting over to allow Hermione room to lie next to him on the couch. Hesitantly, she did so. "You were… what, sixteen then?"

"Fifteen. It was a month or so before my sixteenth birthday."

Sirius's eye gleamed. "I remember. I think I gave you a certain… present then, didn't I?"

Hermione froze. It was real. She did not know if she was more surprised that it had actually happened or disappointed that Sirius could speak of it with such nonchalance.

She blushed brick red, and Sirius, noticing this, suddenly went pale and stiff. "Wait…" he said, wheels clicking into place in his head, "that wasn't… your first, was it?" He had heard about how women bonded with the person who gave them their first kiss, if even on a subconscious level. _Although you wouldn't mind Hermione having a thing for you, would you, you dog?_

"No." Hermione said vehemently, shaking her head. "But…" her blush, if possible, deepened, "it _was_ definitely the best." She paused, then said, "Still is."

Sirius froze.

Hermione looked at him, measuring quickly, with an almost panicked look on her face. Definitely embarrassed. Mainly panicked. She began to stand up.

"Sorry if I've made you uncomfortable…."

"No." Sirius said instantly, shooting out his arm to pull Hermione back down. "You stay right here."

Very tentatively, she lay back down. He wrapped an arm around her.

"You're staying with me until we both fall asleep."

Hermione began to fizz, heart pounding wildly, thrashing about inside her chest, and indeed she wondered if she would ever sleep again. Yet somehow, when Sirius's breathing evened out on her ear, a wave of calm crashed over her, and she found it easy to fall asleep in his arms.

-

-

-

Hermione awoke. Trying very hard not to jolt Sirius about, she checked her watch. It was about three in the morning. She rolled out from inside his embrace, feeling a slight emptiness as she did.

He stirred, and immediately rolled to take up the part of the couch she had previously occupied. For a moment, she knelt beside the couch, admiring how he looked when he slept. His arms and legs were helter-skelter, his hair disheveled as it never was during the day. His face looked so much at peace, his lips slightly parted. Hermione wondered what it would be like if she kissed those lips, porcelain in the moonlight….

She leaned to do so, but Sirius stirred again, mumbling something, and tossed his head the other way. Hermione froze, then leaned and kissed his cheek, gingerly, pulling the cover at his feet up around his chest. Her heart had picked up its slow, heavy beating once more, and currently resided somewhere inside her throat.

She pressed her fingers to her lips, and then to his.

Pushing off the ground, she wandered back to her room, and, just before going through the door, turned to look back at Sirius sleeping. She smiled at him, and then turned out the den light.

-

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-

A/N: Haha, yeah, you only wish I had ended it back then. No, you're stuck with me for a good while. I guarantee you'll know who the blond man is (some of you probably do already) by the time I wrap this up. WooT for George lovers across the planet! He's the better twin!


	10. Chapter 9

Hermione pressed her fingers to her lips, and then to Sirius's.

Pushing off the ground, she wandered back to her room, and, just before going through the door, turned to look back at Sirius sleeping. She smiled at him, and then turned out the den light.

-

-

-

Waiting until the door was shut behind her, Sirius opened his eyes, and looked around the empty den. It was entirely too quiet. He pushed himself into a seated position, and picked up the book from the floor he had hastily cast down so many hours before, trying to find that crucial page.

Planning his stunt had been terribly easy; with her footnotes in the book, Hermione had seen to that. He reread the passage and the commentary a few more times, heart beating somewhere in the vicinity of his throat, and made up his mind.

He would do it that night.

Sirius stood and walked alone, with the book _Secrets From Beyond the Veil_ tucked underneath his arm. He tread very softly, waiting until he was out of the house to Apparate, so Hermione could not hear him leaving. Her wand in his hand, he tucked it into his pocket, and then Disapparated.

The Ministry of Magic was completely empty as Sirius padded gently down the hall branching off the Atrium. He entered the empty lift.

-

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-

The blond man sat up suddenly, jerkily, as one who has just come out of a deep, if not comfortable sleep; his gray-streaked hair mussed up more than slightly from having lain down so long. He felt a twinge on his security spell, which meant that somebody had just entered the room with the archway at the Department of Mysteries. Anticipation built in him. This was most likely the person that he needed to do away with… the person who had meddled with the arch before. Before his plans for the future of the arch were carried out, nobody could know anything about the arch. It was not in his nature to be so cruel, but it had to be that way.

"Wormtail!" He yelled. There was silence from the house around him. He yelled it again, louder this time, and heard annoyed footsteps pounding down the hall, and then his room door opened.

"Yes, master?" Wormtail said bitterly.

"There is somebody at the Department of Mysteries." The man said, unable to keep the excitement from his voice. "If it is a friend, come back with me. If it is an enemy… push him or her through the arch."

There was no hesitation, no moment to rethink the corrupted order. The smaller man merely smiled dementedly. "Yes, master." Wormtail bowed low and backed out from the room.

-

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Sirius felt the unmistakable sudden jolt of passing a security spell on his way to the Department of Mysteries, and then another one entering the room with the arch. He did not care, however. He was confident that he could do the job and get out of there by the time whoever it was that had set those up got to him.

He looked around the empty amphitheatre, and cautiously jogged up and down the rows of seats just to be sure. Nobody was crouched behind them, so, satisfied, he made his way up to the dais, and sat facing the arch.

There were definitely whispers coming from behind the fluttering veil. Sirius shivered, and had immediate second-thoughts.

_For Hermione_, he said.

He opened the book to the page where Hermione had scribbled a protective spell necessary for his proceedings on the corner of the book. Smirking a little to think of what the old Hogwarts librarian would think of _that_, Sirius pulled out Hermione's wand.

He knew that shielding was really little use; this process would at least hospitalize him no matter what, and most likely kill him. Performed so close to death as he was, with a wand that was not his own, he would be lucky to get out of this insane.

_She sacrificed herself, and though it wasn't for you, it certainly did benefit you._ He told himself before he could back out. _She needs this from you_.

"_Markem_." He said, and his wand grew white at the tip, almost like it was chalk. He sat down and drew a full circle around himself. He read another scribbled note that Hermione had put on that page.

'_Tell the arch what you want. It's better the more eloquent it is, the arch is so ancient._'

Sirius smirked. He conjured up a dagger, a plain metal one. He grimaced when he saw it, but bared his forearm, anyway.

At that moment, a door across the room burst open, and two people stepped through, casting long shadows all the way down the aisles between seats and onto the dais where Sirius sat. He froze.

-

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Draco Malfoy felt a strong twinge on his security string, and sat immediately at attention. The Department of Mysteries. Broken into. Disjointed thoughts floated across his head as he scrambled to put on an acceptable amount of clothes.

He was halfway through his Apparition twirl when he realized he did not have his wand. He stopped dead and then grabbed it. He could only imagine what that stupid Apparition teacher would have said about that… very possible to splinch himself, etcetera. Draco did not really give a damn at the moment. If what he thought was happening was truly happening, it did not matter to him if only his right leg ran to go right the situation.

He Apparated, concentrating especially hard so that he could skip the Atrium of the Ministry of Magic completely, and take himself to the next Apparition point—the one that was much more difficult to reach—the lift.

-

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Wormtail ran from the Atrium to the lift, and leaned against the back wall of it while waiting for his floor, panting slightly with overexertion. He was just beginning to get a hold of his breath when somebody Apparated right next to him.

He jumped sky high and practically wet himself in fear, but when he realized who it was, his fear turned to shock.

The tall, pale boy saw him before he could say anything, however, and sneered.

"You're not the intruder, are you? If so, I'm really worried for nothing… it's not like someone so stupid could _hurt_ anything."

"What, you have security around this place, little Draco?" Wormtail demanded.

"Yes, I have. I'm being paid to watch over the Department of Mysteries. Undercover, though, so you can't tell." Draco smirked slightly. "Not like you could, anyway… after all, you're supposed to be dead in five different countries, aren't you? Whose dirty work are you doing this time?"

"Someone who saved my life once." Wormtail said darkly. "It seems that there are too many of those around."

"Department of Mysteries." Said the woman's voice from the lift, and both Draco and Wormtail started for the lift's exit at the same time, then stopped, exchanging glances.

"Oh no, you're not coming too, are you?" They both said, then grimaced.

"Fine, but don't get in my way." Draco snarled, pushing ahead and running off down the corridor. Peter scampered after him.

-

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Draco stepped into the light first, eyes wide with surprise. The years had treated him well; he was handsome, lean, and, though still pale as ever, a tad more muscular than his scrawny teenaged frame had been. Sirius, in surprise, took a step forward and out of the protective spell.

"Malfoy?"

"Black?"

"Black." The shorter man stepped into the light, and Sirius dropped the book from surprise.

Wormtail did not look surprised to see Sirius in the least; if anything, he looked completely at peace with the situation, Draco and Sirius gawking at each other. He stepped forward, lifting his wand, and took advantage of the time it took both Draco and Sirius to pull out their wands to lock the doors.

"_Master_ will want to know you are here. He said to kill the enemies." Wormtail spoke slowly, not aiming his wand at either, instead at somewhere in between them, and smiled an evil smile. "I would say that both of you are enemies, and I will most definitely kill you… after the first order of business." He walked slowly down the steps and away from Draco, until he was about halfway between the two men, who were both brandishing their wands at him threateningly.

"Halt!" Draco finally yelled, voice shaking slightly. Wormtail did, but he was still smiling, which put Sirius at unease. "What do you think you are doing?"

Wormtail sighed. "I can see I will have to explain it all." He considered. "I don't see why not, if you are both going to die. You can applaud my brilliance before you beg for my mercy…."

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A/N: I'm not sure if I'll be able to get another chapter uploaded before going on my road trip. I hope so. If not, I'll try and get it all done before I upload again. WooT for climaxy chapters that always feel way too rushed! Haha, I guess there's really nothing to guess at now except WHEN WILL SIRIUS AND HERMIONE FINALLY GET GOING!


	11. Chapter 10

"Halt!" Draco finally yelled, voice shaking slightly. Wormtail did, but he was still smiling, which put Sirius at unease. "What do you think you are doing?"

Wormtail sighed. "I can see I will have to explain it all." He considered. "I don't see why not, if you are both going to die. You can applaud my brilliance before you beg for my mercy…."

-

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The blond man looked around the room. There was something wrong. The bond between master and servant felt an odd twang, as if servant was doing something master would not approve of.

"Damn, I should have known never to trust Pettigrew." He said acidly. The man immediately pulled a cloak around his shoulders tightly and Apparated to the Atrium of the Ministry of Magic.

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"I was employed, shortly after the fall of the Dark Lord, to assist someone in returning Mr. Black here from the beyond. I had been in hiding, but he found me. I owed this man a favor, shall we say… so I was compelled to do so.

"Well, let's just say I knew more than my employer did about situations. I knew how much Miss Granger yearned to bring the Weasley boy back. I wanted good ol' Padfoot back just as much as my new master, so I rigged the arch. The next person to be brought back through would be Sirius, period, no questions asked." A twisted smile lit up his face.

"Why bring me back at all, if you're just going to kill me now?" Sirius asked. Something about Pettigrew's face frightened him greatly, even if there were two wands on the smaller man, whose wand was pointed in a direction reasonably far from both men.

"That's a good question, a good question indeed." Wormtail said with a kind of wheezing laugh. "Half of which is that my master wanted you back to life, for what purpose I have been ordered not to disclose. The other half is…" Wormtail's twisted smile took on an insane quality, his eyes crossing slightly in mad bliss, "I wanted to watch you die by my hands. I wanted to kill all the remaining Marauders myself. Already, I was the cause of James's death, and I have Remus at just the right position to kill him before too very long, but in order to kill you, I would have to bring you back."

"You can't, can you though? I mean, not yet." Draco asked, curious. "Didn't your master order you to make him alive again?"

"To bring him back, yes." Wormtail said, shifting from foot to foot now. "He mentioned nothing of not killing him, however. He has too much faith in me… has always been a trusting person. Although his character has definitely changed since either of you saw him last. He was willing to kill Miss Granger for meddling in his plans."

"Who _is_ your master?" Sirius asked.

"I am not allowed to tell." Wormtail said, smiling. "It won't matter to you after a few moments, anyway. You will return to death, blissful death, and I have already been let free of my servitude…."

"So you think." Said a weary voice from a doorway across the room, and yet another wand was pointed at Pettigrew as yet another man stood in the room, swathed in shadow. "You have been a dreadful servant, but you have not done what you promised you would do to leave my order. By the way, welcome back to the living, Sirius old friend."

Remus Lupin stepped out into the light, smiling a little at the irony of the situation.

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Sirius was feeling terribly confused. He looked to Draco to exchange a very lost look with him, but for once Draco actually seemed to know what he was doing. The youngest boy smiled thinly at Remus.

"Hello, Lupin. I see you've given this oaf a job." He hitched his head at Pettigrew, who was looking annoyed at Lupin's sudden appearance.

"Unfortunately, yes, one he keeps believing himself capable of wiggling out of." Lupin said, rolling his eyes. "He does not know how deep his bond to me goes, what with our friendship on top of me saving his life… to break such an oath as he made would lead to either death or insanity from him, I'm afraid." Lupin shook his head sadly.

"I have fulfilled it! I have done your wishes!"

"My wish was that you bring back Sirius from beyond the veil." Lupin said harshly.

"And I did!"

"I believe it was Miss Granger that brought that particular thing to pass." Lupin waved Wormtail's whining away.

"I rigged the archway to bring Sirius instead of the Weasley boy! Had it not been for me, our dear old friend would never have returned!" Wormtail shot Sirius an almost hungry look.

"Impossible." Draco suddenly spoke up, causing all faces to turn to him. "The veil cannot be tampered with, without the necessary blood sacrifices. The more innocent the blood, the less it needs. With _your_ blood, Pettigrew, it would need several liters."

"I am also inclined to think that Hermione somehow chose to bring Sirius back instead of Ron Weasley, on however subconscious a level." Lupin agreed.

Suddenly, it all made sense to Sirius, and he felt he had never been happier before in his life. Hermione had somehow chosen him over Ron. Even if she never knew she had done it, and he never knew why she had, it had happened. He wanted at that very moment to pull her into his arms and kiss her, and indeed he would have, had she been present at the time. A foolish grin spread across his face. Thankfully, nobody noticed.

Pettigrew whined, jumping from foot to foot. Apparently, his plans were ruined.

Then, Sirius saw the worst thing he had ever seen; a sick smile crossed Pettigrew's face. Sirius had not caught on to what the man was doing, but Draco and Lupin both had, for, at the direction Pettigrew's wand had suddenly taken, straight at Sirius, they were both galvanized into action. Draco immediately ran for the dais, passing Pettigrew on the way, and headed straight for Sirius, as well. Lupin did the same, but was much farther away, and eventually stopped and dropped below the seats of the auditorium.

"_Sectumsempra_!" Pettigrew yelled, and, before Draco reached him or he was able to think to defend himself, copious amounts of blood splattered, much of it falling through the arch and disappearing on the other side. Sirius stumbled slightly, wand dropping.

The archway gave a flare, and began swirling.

Just as Pettigrew turned to the archway and yelled, "_Reducto_!", Draco reached Sirius, and pushed both of them into the safety of the shield Sirius had prepared earlier, just as the bad situation hit the fan.

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White light blazed around them. A maniacal cackle built to an echoing crescendo, and then faded away. The wind swirled throughout the room, but, in seconds, was gone.

Draco opened his eyes. The chalk-like marks were gone from the ground now, the spell having faded them away completely. Sirius was limp in Draco's death-grasp, but Draco felt a pulse; he would deal with him later. He did a quick spell to stop the bleeding, and left him at that. Draco himself did not feel tremendous; it was almost as if he had just walked through a white-hot fire and was pounded by a blacksmith's hammer. His heart suddenly went out to worked metal everywhere.

He let Sirius fall to the ground gently, then stepped back to survey what had happened.

_Stupid, stupid Pettigrew. His own bane_. Draco thought, averting his eyes from the charred set of bones on the staircase up the auditorium's aisle. Pettigrew had not known what the arch could do to a person when it was tampered with. Draco felt very relieved that he was dead, however.

The damage was done, though, Draco noticed. The archway was collapsed, broken beyond repair. Draco winced at the fact that he would be getting major crap for not having guarded such a relic well enough.

"Suits me just fine." Draco said to himself with a little snort. "The thing was more trouble than it was worth, if you ask me."

There was a groan from across the room, behind some seats, and Draco, remembering Lupin, ran over.

The older man lay, barely stirring, on the ground. Draco knelt at his side immediately and conjured up a cupful of water, putting it to Lupin's lips.

"Here, drink. It will help, I swear." Draco said.

"I would… prefer… some chocolate." Lupin managed to moan, but drank some of the water anyway. He spluttered slightly. "What… happened, exactly?"

"Pettigrew didn't know what he was doing. He thought he'd destroy the arch… didn't know that it would kill anyone not protected in the process. I take it you got up the shield charm in time?"

"Yes. Is Sirius alright?"

"Yes. I got him in the circle just in time."

Lupin grinned. "I trusted that you would. Thank you."

"Don't mention it."

"Listen," Lupin said weakly, coughing quite a bit, "go get Hermione, then come back. She can take the two of us to St. Mungo's, while you report this tragedy." Draco winced, but Lupin just smiled a little. "Don't worry about it… you won't be fired, I'm certain, especially if you don't let on that you were involved. I'll back you up."

"That's not what I'm worried about. It's the paperwork. It's like my own personal hell." Draco said.

Lupin laughed, but it broke into coughing. Draco looked concerned.

"Go! Get Hermione!" Lupin demanded.

Draco nodded, and Disapparated.

Lupin began dragging himself up to the dais.

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A/N: And that's all for about half a week. Sorry folks, check in again on Sunday or Monday or something, I promise to work really hard to update again, but from now until then, I'm wandering the open stretch between Illinois and Southern Texas. (begins singing Rambling Man, adding 'wo' to every time she says 'Man'.) Yeah, I know I'm lame. You don't have to rub it in.


	12. Chapter 11

"Go! Get Hermione!" Lupin demanded.

Draco nodded, and Disapparated.

Lupin began dragging himself up to the dais.

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Hermione had been up since she had left Sirius on the couch, sitting in her room and tossing in her bed. There were a great many things to think about, she soon found, and her mind would make tiring rounds of them all. She knew herself well enough to be aware of that.

_Why did you "kiss" him?_ She berated herself.

_He's been so kind and understanding…._

_Don't be ridiculous. You like him._

Remembering what it felt like, her hand lost in his, or her finding herself, locked steadily in his arms… it was too much for the denying part of Hermione's brain to continue.

_Well, maybe like, but I could only ever love Ron. We both know that._

Hermione could have sworn her slightly more sadistic self gave a derisive snort. _I'm not so sure we do. You know, when you'd stop studying that damn arch and get to pining, it was for Sirius just as often as if was for Ron._

_It wasn't!_

_It was!_

_Wasn't!_

_Was!_

_I'm not going to argue about this anymore._

_Ha! I win!_

_No. I meant that the notion of me possibly ever falling in love… with _him_… when I was so irreversibly in love with Ron… it's just really… really… ridiculous._

There was a long silence between both parts of her mind, tense enough that, if they had been human, both would be red in the face and staring each other down.

The uninvolved, back part of her mind now began churning somewhere completely apart from these two. Sensations returned to Hermione, floating unbidden to the area of the chasm that was Hermione's head right before her eyes. How it was like to be held and kissed senseless by Sirius… how she still burned with curiosity to know how Sirius tasted, to feel his lips at her mouth again… how sickening and wrenching it was to be reminded of their difference in age….

_Then why did you "kiss" him?_ Her sadistic self asked again, and she had no choice but to begin the inner argument all over again.

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When Hermione had worn out her bed, as well as the notion of ever possibly going to sleep, she decided to do the one thing she could always resort to in times like these… and take a shower.

As it turned out, the shower turned into a very, very long shower, this in turn became a very, very long bath. The sadistic part of Hermione's mind faded away to its own version of sleep, so her conscience, for lack of anything better to do, argued with itself.

_I can't love him._

…

_I don't know… maybe I can._

_But I. Love. Ron. Period._

_Whoever said I can't love them both?_

_B-but… it would be an insult to Ron's memory, to go to Sirius like that._

_Would it?_

_Yes! You know how jealous Ron used to get._

She shuddered, remembering the Krum incident. The water quivered around her.

_Well, he certainly wouldn't want me moping about anymore!_

Hermione's mental argument stopped then and there, and she stopped on her way to pulling the plug. A thought to freeing, so liberating had come to her all at once, causing all sections of her brain to sing it at once, in perfect harmony; it was less an idea, but the kind of thing ideas are born of; that they readily sprang from, demanding use. It rooted Hermione to the spot, and ran her heart through the strangest sensation, almost like it had sped to the speed of a motorbike, and stopped altogether all at once. Parts of her were icy and shocked, others warm and flustered. She had no piece of mind left for thought, but had she had one, it would be saying, _Now _this_ is a realization_.

"I love him." She thought it so loud that it pried itself from her lips.

The sadistic part of her mind woke up just in time to say, _Ha! I win!_

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Hermione rocketed, all of a sudden, from the bathtub, not even bothering to pull the plug on the water. She towel-dried at the speed of light, pulled on her bedclothes once more, and ran into the den, not really all that sure what she was actually going to do once there.

When she got there, however, Sirius was conspicuously absent.

Somehow, Draco Malfoy was there, pacing fretfully. He turned to Hermione and almost smiled.

"Hey Granger. It's been a while."

Hermione fainted.

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She woke up to someone slapping her repeatedly in the face. Before she was capable of actual thought, she sat up and slapped back.

Malfoy fell backwards, using words to describe Hermione and all her family that she was too dazed to take in.

"What the hell are _you_ doing here?" She demanded, somehow blaming Malfoy for stopped her millions of ideas' progress (most of which… okay, all of which resulted in quenching that gnawing curiosity to lean how Sirius tasted).

"It's bloody enough that they give me assignments to chase after face-slapping witches, but she has to go all barmy and fainty first? Thanks a whole _bloody_ lot!" Draco muttered, seemingly to nobody. He then turned to Hermione, annoyance written in his every superior feature. "We haven't much time. I need your help."

Hermione's eyebrow lifted a few centimeters "Oh?"

"Don't be so damn condescending, Granger!" Draco yelled, eyes narrowing.

Hermione's eyebrow stayed aloft. She said nothing.

Draco rolled his eyes. "The trouble I go through… it's exhausting, it really is… I should definitely get a raise…."

"What do you need, Malfoy?" Hermione asked irately. "And what have you done to Sirius?"

"I bloody well saved your lovebird's life." Draco shot back immediately. "But I'm really not sure how long that will last. I need you to come to the Department of Mysteries with me to take loverboy and Pro—Lupin to the hospital."

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A/N: Oh, I am so sorry I'm so late! The trip was longer than expected, and I couldn't get to a computer with internet for a long while. Everybody thank my friend Bekah for letting me use her computer to update this!


	13. Chapter 12

"What do you need, Malfoy?" Hermione asked irately. "And what have you done to Sirius?"

"I bloody well saved your lovebird's life." Draco shot back immediately. "But I'm really not sure how long that will last. I need you to come to the Department of Mysteries with me to take loverboy and Pro—Lupin to the hospital."

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Hermione dashed at a breakneck speed across the Atrium, an already panting Draco trundling along behind. He only caught up to her, impatiently waiting for the lift. He did not attempt to speak with her, as he knew he would be no help. Because of him, they could not Apparate directly to the Department of Mysteries… not past all the security Draco had hastily put up on his rushed way out less than half an hour before. He doubted, however, in her current state, that she would have thought about that, instead of just rushing to save Sirius.

The lift opened, and Draco passed through easily, but Hermione felt a small jolt before walking in. Draco felt a twinge as she did so, too.

"Someone has secured this place." Hermione said, in a heavy tone.

"That would be me." Malfoy muttered.

Hermione nodded almost curtly, and they were both silent in anxiety for a few prolonged moments, as the lift descended.

"This is it." Draco said when they reached the floor of the Department of Mysteries, and stopped to wait for Hermione, but she was already halfway down the hall. She had already known. Draco ran after her.

She was holding the door open for him with her foot at the end of the corridor, and he entered the room. Hermione stepped in completely; the door clicked to a close.

"Step away from the wall." Hermione said impassively, just as the walls began to spin.

"I _know_." Malfoy snapped.

When the spinning wall finally stopped, Draco and Hermione both pointed their wands at the sam door, directly in front of them, uttered the same spell, and began checking their paths, Malfoy, clockwise, and Hermione, counterclockwise.

They reached the door that had been directly behind them at the same time, and both said, "This way." Hermione did not even waste her time stopping to glare at Draco, instead rushing blindly ahead.

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The amphitheatre was filled with only the small whimpering moans emitted by Sirius. Lupin shifted uncomfortably. Sirius was so very, very weak… if he was not at the hospital within the next few seconds, it would be too late.

Lupin bit at his lower lip. Where were Draco and Hermione?

They burst through the door at that moment, Hermione a good five paces ahead of the panting Draco. Hermione flew down the steps and to Sirius side, kneeling in a pool of his blood. She hung her head over him.

"He isn't dead." She said, finally, sounding immensely relieved.

"No, but he's close enough to it." Lupin said. "I don't think he'll make it to St. Mungo's."

"He will." Hermione said determinedly, just as Draco reached the spot where they were. She turned to the pale boy, who was a little flustered with so much running. "Can you carry him?"

"Of course." Draco said, although he did look a little tired to do so.

"Then I'll support Lupin, and the four of us will use those Atrium fireplaces to Floo out of here and to St. Mungo's." She looked lovingly at Sirius. "And, once we're there, he'll be just fine."

He stirred again, mumbling a little and licking his lower lip.

Lupin sighed inside as he allowed himself to be propped up by Hermione. He really hoped they would all be alright, but he had a terrible feeling that they were just a little too late to save Sirius.

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A/N: I know I promised more, I'm so sorry! It's almost done, I swear it, just like two more chapters and then an epilogue. Thank you for being so lovely, and please do keep reviewing!


	14. Chapter 13

Lupin sighed inside as he allowed himself to be propped up by Hermione. He really hoped they would all be alright, but he had a terrible feeling that they were just a little too late to save Sirius.

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They looked like quite an odd group, dragging each other out into the spinning entry room to the Department of Mysteries, Draco carrying a limp Sirius and Lupin leaning heavily on Hermione. They waited in silence for the walls to quit their spinning, but when they finally stopped and Hermione began, with difficulty, checking the doors for their exit, Draco inhaled sharply.

"What?" Hermione and Lupin demanded at the same time.

"He… stopped breathing."

Hermione heard Lupin swear softly, and throw himself from her shoulder, going over to check Sirius's pulse quickly. Hermione, close to tears the entire night, finally felt one slide down her cheek. It was embarrassing, but she hardly cared. Sirius was dying… possibly already dead. She shut her eyes, and a memory she had hidden from herself long ago reemerged….

"_Mister Weasley, Miss Granger!" A voice called from behind Ron and Hermione. They both turned their heads._

_Albus Dumbledore stood there, smiling at them._

"_May I have a word?" He asked kindly._

_Ron shrugged and nodded; Hermione checked Ron's watch quickly, then said, "Alright, Professor."_

_Together, the three of them walked off the main hallway to a deserted one. Dumbledore was silent all the way; Ron and Hermione exchanged lost looks._

"_Hermione first, I think." He said, and beckoned for her to follow him around the corner._

_Hermione shifted from foot to foot in apprehension._

"_Miss Granger," Dumbledore asked, completely serious. "Are you aware of what love really is?"_

_There was a long silence, after which Hermione said hesitantly, "I'm really not sure I understand the question, sir."_

_Dumbledore laughed. "Of course not. The one question Hermione Granger cannot answer, and yet the one bit of knowledge she is going to need the most. Ah, irony."_

"_Professor?"_

"_Love is a medicine, Miss Granger. It can truly heal physical wounds. But the love in one human's heart is never enough to really save someone. You need remarkable amounts of love, and, if the need is great enough, the magic of love in your own heart will clear the path for you. Do you follow?"_

"_I think so." Hermione lied. She had no idea what Dumbledore was saying._

"_Also," Dumbledore continued, "do not look to the answer right in front of your face, for circumstances beyond your control have decreed that this will pass. Look instead for something else, deeper in your heart… in a short while that which causes you grief will cause you unadulterated joy." He smiled at her lost expression. "That is all. Mister Weasley, now, if you please."_

That was the last time Hermione had ever spoken with Dumbledore. He was killed the next day.

Hermione opened her eyes. She knew what he meant now… or half of it, at least.

"Hand him over." She said, holding out her arm and beginning to swiftly check the doors with her wand hand.

"But…" Draco stammered.

"Just hand him _over_." Hermione insisted, and soon felt the comfortable weight of a completely inert Sirius pressed into her side.

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A/N: Alright, here's something that ought to make some of you happy enough not to kill me for the lame update... I'm going to write a series! This one is like the middle one, there are 3 one-shots that come before, a sequel and a one-shot after. So go ahead and vote on which of the following you'd like me to write first.

-Don't Leave Home... the story about Sirius kissing Hermione from Sirius's POV  
-My Lover's Gone... Hermione lamenting over Ron's death (little to no Hr/S in there, sorry)  
-Honestly OK... Companion to My Lover's Gone from Harry's POV  
-All You Want... SEQUEL TIME!

Again, thank you for the lovely reviews!


	15. Chapter 14

Draco had only ever before heard of the room. In his years of securing the Department of Mysteries, he had asked many times how he would secure that one in particular. The people laughed, and told him that that particular room would secure itself.

Waves, cascades of soft light poured forth from it in the form of waves, almost as if the door had been holding back tides of water. Again and again it assaulted Draco's eyes, which he, out of idiotic curiosity, attempted to keep open. Lupin was fallen over, hunched, with his own eyes covered, but a two-figure silhouette was running into the light, into the room, and shutting the door….

The deluge of light ended, and there was silence.

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_Pain, in its every form, ceased to exist. They floated, suspended in air, and suddenly Sirius was more than conscious… he could move as he never had before, and Hermione no longer had to drag him._

_He opened his mouth to speak but found that he could not. Hermione put one finger over her lips, and then smiled warmly at him, swimming through the thick light air to Sirius, where she leaned forward and pressed that very finger to his lips._

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The door opened once more, and two bodies toppled out of the light, falling one on top of the other onto the ground. The door shut itself quickly, and it was dark again.

Malfoy had given in and shut his eyes, and they stung terribly, but Lupin opened his and rushed to the bodies of Hermione and Sirius, quickly checking for breaths and pulses.

There seemed to be nothing wrong with either. Lupin blinked. Malfoy, swearing under his breath, finally grew strength to open his eyes completely, but they fluttered in hesitance. When he spoke, it was shakily, as if he had just seen something that had branded his life.

"What happened? Are they alright?"

"They're… fine. Unconscious, but just fine. It almost looks like they're just sleeping." Lupin pulled slightly on Hermione's arm, and she rolled off of Sirius. For the first time her could see her face. She looked almost like she was having a really, really wonderful dream, eyes shut lightly with a warm smile on her face. Lupin waved his wandlight over Sirius's face, which held a very similar expression.

"Hospital?"

There was a pause. Lupin was hesitant, but he said, "Er… yeah. They might be out for a while, and I'd like to be able to hear what they say when they wake up."

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A/N: And that's the end of that!

Sequel or Don't Leave Home?


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